Alone in the World
by Nyx6
Summary: Catherine and Hannah Moore are running away from the past, something that follows their every move. Can Ezra and the seven finally help them lay to rest some old ghosts?
1. Prologue

Prologue.

He watched her thread her way through the people, hurriedly pulling the small girl along with her free hand, her other clutching a large tapestry bag that she could barely hold, and had to keep stopping to heave back into a more comfortable position.

From his window he could see the stage she was running for, and he smirked to himself. A thin smile that crept across his face, his thoughts only revealed by the harshness of his gaze.

He watched as a well-dressed man, evidently heading for the same coach, held the door open, and offered his hand for the woman to climb in before raising his hat to the girl. He observed the man eagerly, drinking in his appearance. The smart red waistcoat, the matching red jacket, and more importantly the gun hanging from his side. He'd have to ask after him later.

Confident of any more passengers, the coach began to move off, and as the spring breeze blew the curtains into the room his eyes iced over, as he contemplated his plans.

He'd let her leave, for now, but it didn't matter where they went. He'd find them, he always did.

He enjoyed the hunt.


	2. One

Ezra had spent most of the journey back to Four Corners deep in thought. His legs stretched out in front of him, his hat tipped down, covering his eyes. To his left, on the opposite side of the stage the woman and young girl sat quietly, the woman wrapped up in thoughts of her own, although smiling pleasantly enough when Ezra caught her eye. The girl had been sleeping, and Ezra had found his gaze on her, her head resting against her mother's side, her long brown hair in little pigtails, reminding him very much of the little girls he'd known when he was growing up, and how he used to pull their hair with glee. He smiled looking at her as she slowly opened her eyes and gazed round. She was as cute as a button, he thought, before letting his gaze drop.

"Are we nearly there mama?" she asked sleepily, stretching a little. The woman turned her gaze from the window to her daughter and smiled,

"I'm not sure. I should think so, maybe an hour or two more."

This was obviously not what the little girl wanted to hear, because she groaned and sat back heavily against the seat.

"That's a long time," she commented, clearly trying to envisage such a stretch. The woman smiled and looked up, Ezra, feeling her eyes on him returned the smile,

"So impatient," the woman smiled at him, before looking back down to her daughter, and running a hand gently over her hair.

"Were we not the same once?" he replied and she grinned at some long-forgotten memory,

"Yes. Yes I suppose we were."

As silence once more enveloped the coach, Ezra reached inside his jacket, letting the folds reveal his gun, relatively hidden until that point. Ezra froze as the little girl gasped, and pushed up his hat with a thumb to see what had caused her surprise. He found her gaze fixed to his gun belt. She looked up at him, her mouth open in awe,

"Do you use it?" she asked quietly,

"Hannah!" the woman chided softly, turning again to gaze out of the window apparently unconcerned by the conversation. Ezra gave a short laugh, and watched as the woman's eyes darted in his direction before turning to the girl,

"Only if the occasion dictates."

She let her eyes wander from his gun to him as a flicker of puzzlement crossed her face. His grin was warm as he watched trying to figure it out. She glanced at her mother, judging the moment before leaning closer to him and whispering,

"Did you ever shoot someone?"

"Hannah," by now her mother's tone was that of a warning, and Ezra smiled again, pulling out his cards and letting his jacket flap back over his belt once more. He looked her in the eye, still amused by the conversation,

"I think it's best we left some things to the imagination miss."

She watched for a second as he began to flick the cards through his hands, and began to fidget in her seat, sidling further from her mother, and closer to him, so that she was almost opposite,

"My daddy was a Sheriff," she paused, "He shot someone you know."

Before Ezra could reply, her mother turned to her quickly,

"Hannah that's enough, please do not go boring this poor man," she looked up at him, seeming flustered, "I'm sorry."

He raised his eyebrows, surprised,

"Nothing to apologise for Miss."

Hannah, upset at being told off, slumped back into the chair, her bottom lip sticking out in resignation, her face sorrowful. Ezra ran the deck through his fingers, until he was sure her eyes were on it. He flipped over the top card, the ace of diamonds and tipped it forward for her to see before adding it to the pile again and shuffling it. Then, as she leant forward eagerly, he cut the deck directly in half, and held the next card up for her to see. The ace of diamonds. A smile spread across her face, and slowly she shuffled off her seat, and came and sat next to him, brushing the soft seat absently as she whispered shyly to him,

"Do you do those miracles for a job?"

He grinned. Miracles! Part of him wanted to say yes, after all, he had done for years, but somehow he didn't think the mother would approve of her daughter sitting next to a gambler.

"More for relaxation purposes I'd say."

She looked up,

"What do you do for a job?"

He paused. Lawman? That sounded far too dramatic, and an exaggeration of his efforts. One of seven men who happened to be paid for policing a town? Far too complicated an explanation to offer.

"I help keep undesirable individuals and events away from a small town."

The girl saw through this once, her eyes glowing with excitement,

"You're a sheriff?"

Ezra smiled to himself,

"Not precisely. I am one of seven such, we...assist the sheriff in his day to day business."

Hannah nodded, seeming convinced enough, and in the lull of the conversation, she offered another topic,

"I'm five."

Ezra beamed down at her, his face turning to mock astonishment,

"Five?" he gasped, she nodded proudly, "Surely not five whole years? Why that's half a decade!"

Beside the window, Hannah's mother turned her head with a smile as she watched the stranger converse so easily with her daughter, who was clearly loving the attention.

"I'm going to be six in..." she paused, her tongue sticking out as she did the maths, "...four months,"

"Six! Why that's practically a lady!"

Hannah blushed and giggled, looking over at her mother, who was smiling just as genuinely. As Hannah shuffled even closer to Ezra he noticed her mother's eyes on him, and swept off his hat, realising his rudeness,

"Madam, I apologise profusely for being so rude. I am Ezra Standish,"

The woman smiled,

"Catherine Moore, and this is Hannah,"

"We're going to Four Corners," Hannah interjected, "We're nomads,"

Ezra was slightly surprised by this, and by the sad smile that crossed Catherine's face, he guessed the words were hers.

"Really? Well it just so happens that I too am on my way there."

Hannah smiled, caught up by the charismatic newcomer, pleased he was heading in their direction.

"What's it like?"

Ezra contemplated this for a moment and exhaled.

It was going to be a long story.


	3. Two

**Two.**

"Hey! Listen now! Sophie!" The saloon doors banged open, the protests going largely unheard as a man backed out onto the walkway, hands up in submission, "Sophie!"

The woman in front of him causing his fear, jabbed a finger in his chest angrily as they continued to move backwards.

"You told me ten o'clock! Waitin' four hours I was for you! Four hours! But make no mistake Buck, I will not be doing it again!"

Somewhere behind them there was the sound of grinding dirt as the stage rolled into town, eclipsed by the magnitude of Sophie's fury.

The red-head continued to glare accusingly at him, folding her arms calmly as she waited for some form of apology.

Unluckily for Buck, what he offered instead was an excuse.

"Well, now you see Sophie...now, there was some trouble over at the..." he didn't get much further, as the irritable tapping of her food against the wood was enough warning to stall that particular line of apology. At a complete loss where to go from where he was, and in the face of a woman scorned, he reached to scratch the back of his head, and offered a smile and shrug of his shoulders,

"Er...sorry?"

Too little, too late, with a growl of annoyance Sophie went to spin on her heel. Buck, desperate not to lose a possible conquest grabbed her by the arm.

"Now Sophie, wait a minute..." he was cut off as Sophie stamped on his foot, and the heel of her boot connected with his big toe. He promptly let go, and reached instead to grasp his throbbing foot.

The sound of chuckling alerted him to the presence of Nathan and JD, who were stood by the corner of the saloon watching him. Nathan shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation as Buck turned to point at JD in warning,

"Not a word! You hear me?"

JD's grin grew even winder, and he nodded towards something behind Buck that made him turn.

"I don't have to."

Standing beside the stage, looking refreshed and bright-eyed stood Ezra, watching Buck with a mixture of amusement and pity. Buck groaned, knowing what was coming.

"One day Mr. Wilmington, you are going to have to let me into your confidence as to how you manage to charm the gentler sex with such success."

Buck sat down heavily on the edge of the boardwalk, pulling off his boot to rub at his toes.

"I'll have you know Ezra, that while you were away, Sophie and myself..." he paused at the sound of giggling to see a small face peering out of the door, and was suddenly glad he'd stopped where he did.

Ezra extended a hand with a smile, and watched as the Hannah hopped down off the step to stand in front of Buck, scuffing the ground with her boot shyly. As Buck watched, another face appeared inside the carriage, and as Ezra assisted the woman off he stood hurriedly, frantically trying to jam his boot back on.

By the time Catherine had joined her daughter's side, Buck was leaning against one of the posts, trying to look casual as JD and Nathan stepped forward to greet their friend.

"Welcome back stranger," another voice added, as Vin wandered across the street to join the gathering outside the saloon, and nodded towards Catherine and Hannah, "Ladies,"

Hannah smiled shyly at the thought her being a lady, and turned to hide her head in Catherine's skirts.

"Gentlemen," began Ezra, "This is Mrs. Catherine Moore, and Miss. Hannah Moore, who will be gracing our community with their presence. Mrs. Moore, these are my esteemed colleagues, Mr. Vin Tanner," Vin tapped the brim of his hat, "Mr. Nathan Jackson," Nathan nodded his head, "And the Sheriff," Ezra added, with a glance towards Hannah, "Mr. JD Dunne,"

JD, slightly surprised at his introduction blushed slightly and went to scratch the back of his head as he gave a lopsided smile,

"Er..Hi."

Buck stepped forward with a dazzling smile, taking a bag from the driver as he began unloading the luggage,

"Allow me," he beamed gallantly. Nathan threw his eyes to the heavens and snorted, ignoring the look Buck shot him in return.

Ezra smiling, offered his arm to Catherine,

"Excellent idea Mr. Wilmington. Mrs Moore, allow me to escort you to the hotel,"

As the driver thrust another bag at Buck, the gunslinger's smile vanished rapidly, and he turned to see JD again grinning like a chesire cat. Words by this time, were not necessary, and instead Buck pointed a warning finger in the youngest member's direction.

Catherine smiled at the banter between the men, and looked over at Ezra,

"Actually we are to stay with a Ms. Roth, my late husband's aunt. I believe she lives some five minutes from here."

Vin, rifle slung casually over one shoulder, nodded,

"Yeah, Ms. Roth, I know her, lives along the main road out of town. Shouldn't take more an'a few minutes by horse,"

Armed with the new facts, Ezra continued to offer his arm,

"Well, in light of this information, allow me instead Mrs. Moore, to show you to our fine livery," as Catherine accepted his arm and the pair turned in the direction of the stables, Ezra threw back a remark over his shoulder, "Bring the bags will you Buck?"

Josiah, heading towards the saloon for some mid-afternoon refreshment was the first to incur Buck's mood, as the notorious ladies man stalked past the preacher with a bag in each hand,

"Good afternoon there brother," Josiah nodded with a warm smile.

Buck snorted, barely looking at him as he trudged past,

"Ain't nothing good about today Josiah, an' that's for damn sure!"

Josiah turned with some surprise to watch Buck stomp towards the livery, before his attention was caught by JD's sniggering. He looked towards the others in puzzlement,

"Trouble in paradise?"

Nathan sighed and turned towards the saloon doors,

"Don't ask."

Vin chuckled, and he and JD followed Nathan in, leaving Josiah peering down the street, at a complete loss.


	4. Three

**Three.**

"Do you know someone by the name of Standish?"

Chris' ears pricked up at the sound of Ezra's name, and, trying to act casual, he picked up his glass, turning his head slightly in the direction of the conversation. He was a day and a half from Four Corners, and, he lamented almost wistfully, had almost made it back without trouble, which he suddenly felt brewing somewhere in the distance.

A man, possibly in his early fifties, with a shock of grey hair, was leaning on the bar, questioning the bartender. The man's face was weathered, but looked cold and unforgiving. He was flanked by five other men, who had positioned themselves around the man who was evidently their leader in an attempt to look more intimidating. Chris knew that move, he quite often used it.

"Standish?" the bartender asked, trying to maintain an air of composure in the face of such a show of strength.

Chris listened closely, perhaps there was another Standish hereabouts, perhaps they were after Maude.

The grey-haired man nodded,

"Yeah. Fancy clothes, red waistcoat, jacket, came through on the stage maybe?"

Chris groaned inwardly. Had to be.

The bartender pulled a face, and screwed up his face in concentration,

"Not been a stage through here for a couple of weeks now. Standish did you say?" the grey-haired man nodded, and the bartender's eyes flicked round the group, as he debated telling them what was on his mind. The grey-haired man pulled out his gun, and began checking the gun compartment coolly. The bartender swallowed, mind made up, "There is a Standish in Four Corners though, fancy clothes, the like, been here gambling once or twice. Heard he's a lawman of sorts," the name gabbled.

"Lawman?" asked the grey-haired man, seeming surprised, "Didn't look like no lawman to me,"

The bartender shook his head,

"Nor me, but that's what folk says. Seven of 'em over at Four Corners there are."

The grey-haired man grunted, digesting this news with interest.

"Well, why we ask is, we believe this Mr. Standish so I've been told his name is, was travelling with an acquaintance of ours,"

Chris let the glass linger by his lips. So, not necessarily Ezra in trouble, though trust him to find someone who was.

He grey-haired man continued,

"A woman, dark hair, small girl with her. Seen them by any chance?"

The bartender shook his head,

"No, no new women lately. Like I say, reckon you're best bet's Four Corners,"

The man nodded, and grinned round at his gang,

"I reckon we stay here and buy the man a drink. He's been very helpful."

Chris gritted his teeth as the man's sinister voice drifted through the saloon. Chris drained the rest of his drink and stood up, better not to waste anymore time, he thought to himself as he headed outside. So it wasn't Ezra in trouble, well, yet, but instead a woman and her daughter. Chris didn't know much of the situation, but felt he didn't need to. He'd seen the man, and had taken sides immediately. The woman and child would remain safe if that was what they required, and him and the boys would be the ones to do that.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As the sun climbed higher over the rooftops of the town, the boys drifted one by one into the near-deserted saloon.

Buck, still smarting from his humiliation in front of Catherine was content with his feet up on one of the tables, ignoring Ezra, face like thunder. Ezra however, was breezing over his sullen stance with eye rolling and drink.

"Another round gentlemen?" asked Ezra, draining his glass. JD nodded, seemingly always eager to participate in what the majority of the group was doing. Vin shrugged and slid his glass across the table, and Josiah gave a wide smile, indicating his sentiments on the matter.

Buck remained silent, and as Ezra pulled the stopper from another bottle, he glanced at the surly looking gunslinger.

"Buck?"

He was greeted with a grunt that he took as a 'yes,' and tipped some of the liquid into Buck's glass.

As the doors swung open, they looked up expectantly to find Nathan silhouetted in the bright sun, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking worn.

"Mrs. Winter had a baby boy," he announced, as Ezra grabbed another glass, "Brown eyes, head of thickbrown hair,"

Buck snorted,

"Not sounding much like Mr. Winter,"

Nathan wandered over, dropping himself wearily into a seat and taking upa filled glass. Vin chuckled,

"No. But not unlike you Buck."

The others grinned as Buck's glare worsened.

"What's she called him?" asked JD. Nathan shrugged,

"Nothing yet. Give her a chance JD,"

Ezra raised his own glass, bottle half-full in his other hand,

"A toast. To new-born children, to new acquaintances," Buck snorted loudly, but Ezra ignored him like a seasoned professional, grinning at a sight in the doorway ashe added, "A woman scorned..."

At these words, Buck's eyes shot up to find a female form, glaring at him over the doors. At once he was up from his chair, which clattered loudly on the ground at the force of its being thrown backwards.

"Sophie!"

Ezra continued the toast,

"And to the trials and tribulations of love."

Glasses raised, the other five drank, before turning to Buck, who, hand on the saloon doors was staring down the boardwalk, shaking his head.

"Women!" he snapped. He turned and stomped back over to the table, disagreement with Ezra forgotten as he threw back his drink and offered his glass forward, "Better have me another."

The sound of a carriage pulling up somewhere across the street drew their attention, and Ezra's especially as a voice drifted through the swing doors,

"Hannah, careful, watch where you're going."

This was followed by the soundof footsteps on the boards, and as they turned to look, a small figure crouched down and peeked into the room.

"Hannah! Whatever are you doing?" this was a new voice, accompanied by a stout pair of legs at the bottom of the doors, and a grey bun and cross features at the top. Hannah at once scrambled to her feet,

"Sorry auntie Grace,"

'Auntie Grace' however did not seem convinced by the apology, and carried on regardless,

"Honestly, making a beeline for the saloon of all places, what sort of actions are those for a girl?"

Hannah began to fidget with the hem of her dress in embarrassment,

"I was looking for someone,"

On cue, Ezra swung open one of the doors, leaning out into the street, and noting with pleasure, that Hannah's face lit up on seeing him. He smiled down at her,

"Good morning there miss," he then turned with a dashing smile to the strict looking woman, "And this must be theillustrious Mrs. Roth I have heard so much of, and, may I add, none of the information has been exaggerated I'm sure,"

Hannah grinned, and listening to the side, Catherine couldn't help but smile either. Mrs. Roth sniffed,

"Well, it'snice to meet you to sir,"

Ezra held up his hands,

"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine," as Mrs. Roth blushed, he threw a wink at Hannah, and clapped his hands together, "Now, I do believe I promised to show you the town today isn't that right?"

He looked towards Catherine, who, playing along nodded convincingly at her aunt,

"Err...yes, that's right. Aunt Grace, Mr. Standish will show us around the town, we'll be quite safe in his care."

Mrs. Roth, although suitably flattered, did not seem convinced enough, until the doors swung, and Josiah wandered through, extending an arm gallantly,

"Ma'am, I have heard that you are a woman of God,"

She nodded, and he smiled in return,

"Then may I ask you to accompany me to the Church, and help me with a pressing issue."

Bombarded by smooth-talking men, Mrs. Roth nodded, casting a glance back at Catherine,

"You're sure you'll be alright Cathy?"

Ezra answered for her,

"I will endeavour to see her catered for in every way possible."

With that, Mrs. Roth let herself be led away, and Ezra smiled at Hannah,

"Well, since I have become your unofficial tour guide, I have to ask what it is you want to see first."

Hannah stuck her tongue out in concentration and Ezra exchanged an amused smile with Catherine,

"The jail," said Hannah, eyes glowing. Ezra looked down at her in surprise, and Catherine put a hand on her shoulder,

"I don't think that's such a good idea Hannah..." she began, and Ezra had to agree. However his face softened on seeing her disappointment. He leant back, pushing open the doors,

"Mr. Dunne, are the jail cells occupied at the present?"

JD looked up and shook his head,

"No. Why?"

Ezra turned back to Hannah with a wide smile and winked,

"In that case, I think we may have just found our first destination."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

P.S. If you haven't already done it, then don't forget to go on amazon and vote for the release of TMS series on DVD (nothing like some shameless drumming of support!) oh yeah, and obviously, review! Thanks to those who already have!


	5. Four

**Four.**

Chris Larabee was not having a good morning.

He'd set off from the bar in good time, with high hopes of reaching Four Corners before the menacing silver-haired man and his posse, and had been making good time. However, any hopes he had been carrying, were ruined by the blow to the back of his head.

He hated being jumped, and as he lay in the dust with a hand to the tender throbbing bump on his head, he remembered exactly why that was. He heaved himself to a sitting position with a groan of exertion, and raised the tails of his jacket. There was a large bullet hole in the back. Chris smiled despite himself at another close scrape.

Everything had appeared to happen at once. A rider had come alongside him, asking for directions, as Chris turned to gauge his own bearings, the man had hit him over the back of the head, and as more riders approached, one had shot at him as he had fallen from the horse. Although it had missed him, Chris' unconscious state had convinced them otherwise, and the men, no doubt those looking for Ezra, had wasted little time in pushing towards Four Corners themselves.

They were in a hurry.

Using a small, dry looking tree, Chris pulled himself to his feet, and as his head pounded and his world spun, he resolved to give the bartender a good thumping next time he visited, for he was certain a man who knew of Ezra, also knew, by description or reputation alone, himself and the others also. He sighed as he cast around for his horse, which seemed long gone. Reputations had a way of spreading.

He touched his head one more time, and glanced up at the sun, it was still high, maybe one o'clock. He checked for his guns, which were still there, and, replacing his hat carefully, and covering his eyes with the shade of the brim, he set off, following the trails left before him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Besides the morbid nature of the jail, the other thing that appeared to interest Hannah was flowers. This Ezra had found out whilst conducting 'day two' of the 'guided tour'. Both Catherine and Hannah had jumped at the idea of a leisurely walk, and right from the start, Hannah had been diving through the long grasses, holding up pretty flowers and inquiring as to what they were. Catherine had stayed quiet on the subject, and so Ezra had taken it upon himself to educate Hannah on local horticulture.

"What's this one Ezra?" for what seemed the hundredth time that afternoon, Hannah dashed towards them, clutching a small flower with pointed leaves. Both adults halted, and Ezra took the flower, studying its form carefully, with a series of serious sounding 'hmmms.'

"Why I do believe that particular specimen is known as the Devil's fork, due to there only being three leaves, and the deep red colour near the centre."

He handed it back carefully, and Hannah, eyes glowing with excitement, rushed off to find something new.

"I take it you don't really know much about plant-life either?" Catherine commented, fighting hard not to smile as she stared ahead, trying to look nonchalant. Ezra grinned at her roguishly,

"Madam, I have not the faintest idea."

Catherine laughed, and Ezra smiled, and looked down at the grass beneath his feet, pleased at having amused her. They carried on in silence for a while, both watching Hannah carefully parting grasses to examine flowers, before either disregarding, or picking a sample.

"Where we came from there was never much in the way of wildlife, or plants," Catherine commented. Ezra glanced at her, noting a change in her voice, a hint of sadness, "She loves it all so much, everything about the outdoors thrills her," she gave a nostalgic smile, "In that way she's very much like her father. He was never a city-boy either. But me, well, I'm different, New York born and raised."

Ezra thought for moment, his mind shifting through appropriate replies to make in the face of such openness.

"Surely this isn't you're first trip away from New York though. You seem to be well adapted to the travelling lifestyle."

She looked at him,

"You mean what Hannah said, about us being nomadic?" she sighed, "Sometimes, that's the way it has to be. We've moved around so much in the last two years that our feet have barely touched the ground. Never out this far though. I never thought it would suit us as well as it has," She seemed genuinely pleased, and glanced at him with a warm smile.

He smiled too, and turned to look ahead of him,

"Is it necessary for you to move on again?"

Catherine sighed again, her shoulders slumping a little, her face looking weary. Suddenly she seemed very small,

"I don't know," she shook her head, "Probably. Some day."

They walked on quietly together, Ezra desperately trying to piece together what he knew. There was something more that he wanted to find out, and he wasn't getting anywhere. Not that he wanted to force a confession from her.

"Mother look!" a voice emerged from a line of trees before them, and a rosy-cheeked Hannah dashed out from under the shade, "There's a pool!" she ran towards them grabbing hold of Catherine's hand excitedly as she continued, "And I bet it's got fishes and everything!"

Catherine laughed and shook her hand free, coaxing her forward with a gentle push,

"Well you'd better go and see what else you can find so you can tell us all about it when we get there."

Her daughter needed little encouragement, and was off across the grass like a racehorse.

Ezra grinned as he shouted after her,

"See if you can't catch us something appetising! We appear to have missed lunch!"

Catherine laughed, colour flushing back to her cheeks. He held out his hand to her as the ground began to slope awkwardly to the trees,

"Shall we?"

She took it, and, noting Hannah waving to them from the tree line smiled,

"I think we must."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

To anyone who didn't know better, it would have seemed that Buck was asleep. Sitting back in a chair outside the saloon, feet resting out across the boards on top of one another, hat pulled down low.

Vin stepped up beside him, his voice low, eyes resting on the road into town,

"Riders coming in. Eight of 'em,"

Buck smiled, pushing his hat up lazily with one thumb,

"I like those odds,"

Vin gave a wry smile, his eyes still on the riders. They were coming in fast, already thundering past the first few wooden structures of the town.

Across the road, JD stepped out of the jail, his hat in his hand, wiping a sleeve across his forehead. He stepped into the road, before glancing down and noticing something lying in the dust, glinting like a piece of gold. He looked closer, it was a bracelet. He picked it up, placing it in his palm as he examined his winnings. Smiling as he turned over each of the individual charms.

It was therefore, something of a surprise for him when eight horses charged past, not inches from his face. With a yell of fright he stepped backwards, and tripped over the boardwalk, landing on the wood with a thump as the riders skidded to a steady halt.

Buck was up on his feet at once as he and Vin wandered across the dusty street to check on their youngest comrade.

"That boy is gonna get himself killed one of these days," Buck was muttering as they stood and watched JD pulling himself to his feet with a look of sheer indignation. He brushed himself down haughtily, snatching his hat back from Vin, who'd picked it up from the ground,

"They nearly ran me down!" JD pointed angrily at the riders, who, still mounted, were regarding the threesome casually.

Buck snorted,

"JD! You were standing in the road!"

"Well...I...I..." JD stopped, sensing failure, and satisfied himself with disgruntled huffing as he brushed dirt from his clothes.

Vin looked up as a silver-haired man broke away from the group, and walked his horse sedately up to them. Beside him, Buck was doing the same as he was, and making a point of having his guns on display. The man didn't seem too intimidated however, and simply shot them a thin smile,

"Afternoon 'fellas,"

JD shot him a healthy death-glare, but managed to control his temper as Vin inclined his head slightly.

The horse shifted underneath the man, who turned slightly to get a better view of them,

"We're looking for a man. Goes by the name Standish,"

All three of them bristled instantly, on full alert. The man however, either didn't notice or ignored any changes and carried on, "Know anyone by that name round here?"

There was a small pause as Buck, and Vin eyed the man cautiously. JD, still significantly annoyed, chipped in the from the back,

"Who's asking?" he snapped as he shoved on his hat. The man however simply ignored him,

"I'm asking because I have it on good information he was travelling with an..." he paused to consider his choice of words, "...an, acquaintance of ours. A woman, small child with her."

"Your sister is she?" asked Buck, in a voice that implied he wasn't going to believe any answer but 'no.'

The man smiled again,

"No. But we go back a long way."

There was an eerie silence as Buck, JD and Vin tried to decipher the meaning behind the last line, before Vin answered for the group,

"Standish you said? Well, I reckon if I see a Standish round here, I'll tell him you're looking for him, and as for a woman and child, well, we have our own fair share around here, so unless you're willing to be more specific, I don't think we can help," he tipped his hat as beside him, a satisfied smile spread thinly across Buck's face, his eyes though, still cold, "Good day."

The silver-haired man regarded the group for a second, before narrowing his eyes and nodding his head, as if in bitter understanding. He managed another insincere smile however, before turning back to his group, and leading them off.

JD blew out a long breath,

"Well, what was all that about then?"

Buck sighed and shrugged,

"Damned if I know," he sat down on the boards and grinned, "Though trust Ezra to be at the centre of it."

JD eyed the group of riders as they sped up out of the town,

"Think they'll be back?"

Buck nodded,

"Oh I know it."

"Well? What will we do then? What about Catherine and Hannah?" asked JD. They all knew who the man had been after.

Vin shook his head,

"We'll just have to watch out, and be ready for when they do show up again."

Buck chuckled,

"Well, you can hardly separate Ezra from those two the last few days so he'll be as good as any to look out for them."

Vin nodded, "I hope so."


	6. Five

**Five.**

Ezra had been told of the arrival of the newcomers the moment he had trotted contentedly back into town. The others, who had clearly been having some sort of discussion about the event, were gathered about, and as Vin relayed the tale, with JD chipping in details of how he'd nearly been knocked down, the others eyed him carefully.

Ezra of course, had been oblivious as to the purpose of the unfriendly newcomers, and in the hot evening after a long day of chasing around after a small child, Ezra was keen to collapse onto his bed, and as a result, had been unimpressed by the news. The conversation therefore, had dropped at his casual comments of mistaken identity. However, as the morning had dawned, Ezra had been beginning to piece together what he knew of Catherine and Hannah's past life, and the new gang in the area, and he was beginning to think that the shrugging off of such coincidental facts was no longer an option.

"Something more than just a case of mistaken identity?" Ezra jumped at the sound of Josiah's placid, but probing drawl. Ezra rolled his eyes as his heart returned to its normal rate, and scooped up the glass on the table in front of him. Letting it hover before his lips he replied carefully,

"I hope not."

Josiah, blending in with the dusty light creeping through the shutters, wandered forward, placing himself in the chair opposite the gambler, his eyes searching for more information.

"The woman and child. Do they have a troubled past?"

Ezra sighed and sat back, an arm dangling casually over the back of the chair as he stared at the glass.

"I truly don't know. But I do know that they have something of a nomadic lifestyle, and I also know that the late husband..." Ezra began, his eyes rising to meet Josiah's before flicking down again, "...was a Sheriff, who, I am led to believe was shot." The rest spoke for itself and so he let it hang.

There was a small silence, broken by Josiah, feeling the need to re-cap,

"So you think that whoever shot the husband, for whatever reason, is after them?"

Ezra met his eyes. The gambler's expression, although seeming unsure, seemed to convey conviction in the idea. Josiah shrugged,

"Makes sense to me. So what we gotta do now I reckon, is bring Mrs. Moore and her daughter into town. Keep them safe until all this trouble sorts itself out,"

Ezra stood slowly, gently putting on his hat. Josiah sat back,

"Going to get them?" he questioned. Ezra nodded, and Josiah smiled widely, "Don't forget Mrs. Roth now,"

Ezra paused at the door, and turning back, grinned widely at the preacher,

"I hardly think that possible."

With that, he tapped the brim, and left.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Not fifteen minutes after Ezra had left town at a somewhat faster pace than he had been doing so over the last few days, Chris stumbled wearily into town.

Buck, stretching lazily in the early morning heat had regarded his friend with some surprise before coming to his senses and scurrying over in concern.

"Chris," he frowned, as his friend wandered past him in a daze and straight towards a trough, where he knelt down and cupped water into his mouth, letting it trickling refreshingly down his chin. Buck lent over, peering at him closely,

"Chris?" he ventured again. Chris lurched to his feet, swaying wildly, and fending off Buck's steadying hands,

"Men. Horses." Chris, still wobbling madly began mumbling loudly, his face a picture of fury.

Buck backed away from him carefully, like a wild tiger,

"Now, you just hold on there Chris. You sit yourself down. I'll go and fetch Nathan. You sit tight now okay."

Buck turned on his heel, and spotting JD shuffling wearily out of the jail, hailed him loudly.

"Hey JD! Go and fetch Nathan, tell him Chris' back, and he's not looking too good!"

JD took a few seconds to digest the information, screwing up his face, and answering the gunslinger with a confused, "Huh!" Buck however, replied with a few expletives that sent the young Sheriff off towards the healer's at a more satisfying pace.

Buck turned at the sound of a thud. Chris, still unsteady on his feet, had plonked himself down beside the boardwalk, aiming for the planks, but misjudging the distance, and dumping himself down in the dust instead. Buck watched with a mixture of bemusement and concern as the group's leader let his head fall back onto the boards, clearly exhausted. Sighing to himself, the big gunslinger went over, and looked down at his long time friend.

"You want anything Chris?" he asked tentatively. Chris licked his lip longingly,

"Water."

"Water. Ok," Buck nodded and went into the saloon. He cast round for something large enough to carry a sufficient amount of water in, and then, as his eyes fell on a bottle of gleaming alcohol, he paused before looking up at the ceiling,

"Please forgive me for what I'm about to do."

He took up the bottle, and carried it outside, removing the cork and letting the alcohol run out onto the ground before filling it with water. He took it back to Chris, who drank it greedily, regardless of Buck's wistful sighs, and longing stares at a patch of wet ground, that was fast soaking up the moisture.

He looked up, Nathan was steaming up the street, looking half dressed, and rubbing shaving cream from his face as JD trailed behind trying hard to keep up.

Beside Buck, a little more rejuvenated, Chris was trying to get upright, and he reached up and grabbed at Buck's sleeve.

"Help me up Buck, then go and get the others,"

Buck stood at once, pulling Chris upright,

"Ezra's not here. He went out this morning. We, kind of had a bit of a run in here yesterday, and he's going to bring some folks back into town."

Chris leant against a post,

"Well, go and get Josiah and Vin. I had a 'run-in' myself, and I bet the two incidences might just be related."

As Nathan drew to a halt beside Chris and began to quiz the weary lawman on his health, Buck signalled JD,

"Hey! JD, go and get Vin and then get back here. I'll go and get Josiah."

JD came up close, lowering his voice,

"What's going on Buck? What's happened to Chris?"

Buck sighed,

"I don't know. But I'm guessin' it might have a lot to do with them folks from yesterday."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ezra took a different route to the remote ranch where Mrs. Roth resided, across the grassy fields of wild flowers, hoping to find some new posy for Hannah, and ally any fears brought by the news he was carrying. Still he lamented, everyone would feel much safer back in town, and although forcing Mrs. Roth to leave was going to be no mean feat, it would all be worth it having Catherine and Hannah under the watchful eye of the seven. Or six, he thought to himself, in the absence of Chris.

He reigned his horse in as his eyes fell on a small blue flower, and he swung off nimbly to pluck a handful from the long grass.

There was a warm breeze blowing in his direction, catching in the folds of his jacket, feeling through his thin shirt like fingers, and rustling the grass into waves of rippling green.

Somewhere nearby the sound of pounding hooves, dense like thunder, rumbled past. Instinctively Ezra dropped to a crouch, searching out a dust cloud moving along the road. He narrowed his eyes. Seven horsemen? Eight maybe? All heading towards Mrs. Roth's.

Ezra glanced back at the town, sleeping quietly in the mid-morning sun, before turning back to the group of horsemen. He climbed back onto his horse and set off across the grass, trying to cut the route short and beat the men. He grinned ruefully to himself. Some simple reconnaissance wouldn't hurt anyone. He'd simply arrive at Mrs. Roth's before the horsemen, send Catherine and Hannah into town and then gather as much information the newcomers as he could.

Simple.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Well at least we know they're not after Ezra," Vin pointed out. The group were gathered around Chris, who, on Nathan's orders, had been given plenty to drink and been sat in the shade. The healer himself snorted,

"That makes a change,"

Chris looked up,

"And none of you know anything about this woman and her daughter? Has Ezra said anything?"

Josiah shifted somewhat uncomfortably, almost unsure of weather he was supposed to relate the information Ezra had told him this morning,

"Well..." he began, all eyes turned to look at him, "...Ezra said something this morning about a somewhat mysterious past. Late husband a lawman who was shot dead. Family's been moving around since then. He was figuring it might have had something to do with them men."

Buck nodded,

"Sounds good enough to me. Maybe the husband killed one of their own but was killed before they could get revenge, and so now they're trying to get even with the wife."

There were shrugs around the table as people tried out this theory. Vin nodded calmly,

"Well, we can ask her when they get back with Ezra."

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of a trap drawing up. Everyone turned to look.

Catherine, looking bright and refreshed climbing down holding a basket and a piece of paper. She smiled warmly,

"Hello everyone, thought I'd come into town for my Aunt Roth before it heats up too much."

She was greeted by a line of surprised faces, all seemingly stunned to see her. She frowned in puzzlement.

"Err..." Buck broke the silence, "Have you not seen Ezra this morning?"

Catherine shook her head,

"No. Why? Is he not here?"

Vin took a step forward,

"He was coming to see you. You didn't see him?" Catherine shook her head at this question, and the men exchanged glances. Vin continued, "Where's Hannah?"

Catherine's face turned from confusion to instant worry,

"She was still asleep. I left her with my aunt. Why?" her face paled slightly, "What's wrong?"

There was a small pause as each man considered what the next words might be. Almost simultaneously they decided there was no need to worry Catherine, since Ezra would no doubt bring Hannah back shortly. Instead Buck smiled,

"Err...no nothing." It wasn't the best piece of acting Catherine had ever seen, but luckily for Buck, Chris interrupted any further concerns by standing up,

"Mrs. Moore?"

Catherine turned to him with a nod,

"Chris Larabee," he held his hand towards the empty saloon, directing her in, "I need to ask you a few questions."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sorry about the wait, havejust had three weeks of revision and exams. God, if I ever look at another piece of paper again, it will be too soon. Anyway, off on holiday tomorrow, and so will be working on this by the beach. Wow, that sounds good! Anyway, this chapter is really just a means to an end, and so the next one will be a bit more dramatic 'cos things all start to happen.

Anyway, am off to pack! Bye!


	7. Six

**Chapter Six.**

Mrs. Roth's appeared to be deserted as Ezra left his horse around the back, and crept along the veranda. He knew he had beaten the riders, but he wasn't sure how much time he had to play with, and so was keen to get everything sorted as quickly as possible.

He rapped carefully on the door, and waited for a response. There was none. He tried again, and, once more, heard nothing. He tapped a foot on the wood in agitation, and ducked to one side to peer through the window.

He was looking into the main room of the house, and at the hob and table. A door was open into another room, and, making his blood run cold for a split second, was the limp form of Mrs. Roth.

He went back to the door and tried to open it. He wasn't surprised to find it locked, so he beat once more on the wooden frame.

"Catherine! Hannah!"

Getting no reply, he sighed, and drew himself up tall. With one hand on his hat, he threw himself sideways into the wood, listening to it splintering, and falling in what appeared to be slow motion before landing fairly awkwardly on his arm.

"Damn!" He lay on his back for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, and waiting for the throbbing in his arm to subside. He flexed it gently. In response, it twinged slightly, and a pins and needles sensation spread briefly. Sitting up, he decided it would be fine, and, adjusting his hat and brushing the splinters of wood from his jacket, he stood up.

Mrs. Roth was lying in the doorway to her bedroom, a purplish tint appearing to a bump on her forehead. The sheet of her bed was rumpled on the floor, and he guessed she'd fallen over it and hit her head on the chair by the door. He looked round for something to put on her brow, and in the end, brought out his hip flask, which seemed relatively cool, before putting it gently to Mrs. Roth's head.

"Catherine! Hannah!"

There was nothing. He sighed in frustration. Where were they? He couldn't have much time left, should he just leave? Well, no, he obviously couldn't leave Mrs. Roth.

There was the sound of soft footsteps.

"She fell over,"

Hannah was standing in the doorway. Her big eyes frightened, clutching at a blanket for security.

"She'll be fine. Where's your mother?"

"Town."

Ezra sighed. At least she was there. He'd just have to take the other two back now.

Suddenly, there was a familiar sound in the distance. The sound of hooves, pounding the earth. His voice took on a pitch of urgency.

"Hannah leave! Get out! Go and hide!"

This however, Ezra realised, was probably not the best tone to take, as she immediately ran over and clutched to him shaking.

"Hannah get out!"

But she sniffed instead, too frightened to move. Her fists clutching handfuls of his jacket.

As the hooves drew even closer, he sighed, held her tight, and sat back against the wall.

Time, had not played into his hands, and he could not abandon them now.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"Now, Mrs. Moore," Catherine, sitting on a chair in the empty, pre-opening hours saloon, took in the six men gazing intently at her. Chris was taking the lead in the questioning. He took a seat opposite her,

"Yesterday some men came into town looking for Ezra,"

She tensed at once, drawing in a short breath, her eyes starting to shimmer, though she set her jaw tight in defiance. She swallowed,

"Why were they looking for Mr. Standish?" she whispered, hoarsely at first before clearing her throat and speaking up stronger. Buck gave a conciliatory smile and sat down on a back-to-front chair, pushing his hat up slightly,

"Err..well, they weren't so much looking for him as much as someone...with him."

Catherine let out deep shaky breath, bordering on a sob and buried her head in her hands. Before her, the men looked uneasily at one another, and Buck licked his lips, which suddenly seemed dry in the tense atmosphere.

"Mrs. Moore?" asked Chris, his face showing a distinct lack of emotion but his eyes watching her in concern and anticipation.

Catherine, face still hidden stood quickly, and turned away from the men, shaking. Chris tried again,

"Catherine?"

Taking in a deep breath to compose herself, Catherine turned round to them. She shook her head sadly,

"I knew they'd come. They always do. Sooner or later they just..." she sighed and flopped back down into the chair, "..they just do."

A silence reigned as the six lawmen waited for Catherine to say something, and they looked at one another uneasily. Suddenly she looked up panicked,

"Wait! Where are they now? What if they're..." she shot to her feet once more, heading for the doors, "...I've got to get back to Hannah!"

Nathan caught her arm, halting her flight,

"Wait a minute, hold on,"

Catherine seemed almost frantic, and grappled desperately with Nathan who began to loose the fight under the force of her emotions.

"Let me go! You don't understand!"

Vin and Buck stepped in, barring Catherine's way as she broke free of the healer, who replaced his hat looking somewhat disgruntled. Catherine, seeing her way blocked, turned to Chris teary-eyed,

"Please," she whispered.

Chris sighed and stood up,

"Hannah will be fine, Ezra has gone to get her, and we have no reason to believe that they know where you're staying anyway. But we need you to tell us why you're afraid of these men. We can protect you, but we need to know why."

Catherine's shoulders dropped as she calmed slightly, and she took another deep breath,

"They killed my husband..." she took a spare seat at a table to one side, her eyes filling miserably, "...and now they're after me."

JD frowned,

"Why?"

Buck sat back down, preparing for a long story. He looked over at Catherine,

"You'd better start from the beginning miss,"

"And not leave anything out," added Chris.

Catherine sighed, and nodded,

"When I got married, my husband and I moved to a small town out in the middle of nowhere. It didn't really suit me, but it wasn't a permanent situation so I put up with it. My husband was a lawman, he was offered a post at the town, and agreed to it for a short while. He liked the idea of turning it into a smooth, well-run, law-abiding town. Making his mark on it and leaving when everything was done. Anyway, shortly after Hannah was born, a powerful family of ranchers moved into the area, and started trying to get whatever they could from the locals. They had no respect for the law at all..."

Here Buck snorted,

"They usually don't."

Catherine carried on,

"Guy, my husband, tried to deal with them as best he could, but they took over, the whole town was part of their estate. They went where they liked, did what they liked, no one could stop them, even if they tried, and usually you wouldn't dare..." she sighed, brushing away a tear gently before it spilled down onto her cheek, "...well, one day they tried to take the home of an elderly neighbour of ours. They wanted it to extend their grazing land. When she wouldn't let them have it they started to tear it apart anyway. I begged Guy to stay out of it, but he wouldn't.." she paused and smiled warmly at the thought of her husband, "...he couldn't," she stopped again, and her voice cracked a little as she continued, "They shot him as soon as they saw him. Didn't give him a chance. Then they came to tell us about what they'd done. I heard them coming, shouting and laughing, and I knew, as soon as I heard them, I just knew. So, I took one of Guy's guns and we hid. They were drunk, and falling about, shouting about Guy, boasting..." she breathed in deeply, trying to curb the wealth of emotions straining to unleash themselves, "We obviously didn't hide ourselves very well. One of the brothers found me. He started to...started to...," she stopped, and lowered her voice, sounding ashamed of herself, "…I knew what he wanted...and I would never...so I grabbed the gun, and I shot him..."

"Did Hannah see this?" asked Josiah softly. Catherine shook her head solemnly,

"No, she had her eyes shut and her hands over her ears, hiding behind the table. She's been so good about it all really, never complains, never cries," finally, Catherine gave into her emotions, and started to cry herself, furiously wiping away the tears as she sobbed, "She's born it better than even I have,"

"And so you move around to stop them catching up with you?" Chris asked. Catherine nodded,

"They stop at nothing. They'd trail me to the ends of the earth, but I don't think I can do it any more," she ran a hand through her hair, exasperated, and shook her head sadly.

"Well, I reckon it's about time we put a stop all this travellin' don't you?" Vin asked. The others nodded, hands going to gun holsters subconsciously.

As Catherine smiled gratefully, and Buck took on the mission of cheering her up and issuing various promises and assurances, Nathan wandered over to where Chris stood, looking grave,

"Chris, shouldn't Ezra have been back by now?"

Chris sighed and nodded,

"I was just thinking that myself,"

Vin, always a keen ear, turned to the pair, keeping his voice low,

"Think there's trouble?"

Chris' face hardened, and he simply shrugged,

"You know Ezra."

That said it all.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ezra had contemplated barricading himself in the front room, and taking out as many of them as he could. But that idea was quickly waved off, it was all very well, but Hannah was already terrified, and he doubted she'd be able to handle his shooting people. What if she was hurt as they shot back? Besides, not that he minded being outnumbered, but eight to one was fairly unjust, and if they shot him, who'd protect Hannah? He gazed at Mrs. Roth's limp form. Certainly not her.

He took the hip flask from where he'd propped it to cool Mrs. Roth's head, and held it to her in a mock toast,

"To our good health," he told her, taking a swig.

Beside him, Hannah whimpered at the sound of the horses coming ever closer, and the calls and shouting of the riders. None of which sounded too friendly.

Ezra fumbled the lid to the flask back on. How was he going to defend himself? What was to stop them entering and simply shooting anyway? He looked back at Mrs. Roth, and an idea formed. Surely, if he used sheer ignorance and a concern for the woman, he would be perceived as less of a threat? Well, it was worth a try.

Gently, he pulled Hannah from his side, and took off his jacket, rolling it into a ball and propping it under Mrs. Roth's head. He also took his gun belt off and put it beside him, figuring it made him seem more harmless. He looked over at Hannah, his tone stern yet desperate.

"Stay there,"

As boots sounded on the planks of the veranda, Ezra crouched by Mrs. Roth's side, a hand to her head in the sort of concerned gesture he supposed Nathan might have used.

The door, which had swung shut, suddenly burst open off it's hinges, and splinters of wood scattered about the front room. Hannah moaned softly, and pushed herself closer to the wall. Before the men came blundering in, Ezra flashed her a smile, showing a confidence he didn't feel.

"We'll be fine."

As a pair of heavy feet trudged across the floorboards, Ezra looked up,

"Ah gentlemen! Thank goodness! My neighbour Mrs. Roth seems to have taken a fall. Now I have managed to ascertain that the injury is not too severe, but I am no physician, and I am frightfully concerned at her lack of consciousness. I've not left her all morning..." as Ezra gabbled, more men joined behind the first to look at the spectacle, "...but I am greatly heartened by your arrival, and I wonder if one of you gentlemen would be so kind as to ride into town and fetch the healer."

He was greeted by a chorus of men who were all blinking at him, several with half-amused sneers, the other half looking thoroughly bewildered.

However, all confusion dropped at the sound of a raspy cackling from behind them. Like Moses parting the waves the men all shuffled to one side as a tall, silver-haired man walked through them, looking amused as he came to a stop in the doorway.

He took in Ezra with a lop-sided sneer,

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our gambling sheriff, boys,"

Ezra took in the sniggers of the men uneasily, and watched as the silver-haired man's gaze drifted to a frightened looking Hannah, who, under his fierce glare, crawled across the floor, stepped over her great aunt, and clung back to Ezra, whose arms folded instinctively around her, his eyes never leaving the man in the door.

"And look who he's got with him. Little Miss. Moore. Well, I'll be. Looks like we scored big this time lads. Real big."


	8. Seven

**Chapter Seven.**

Mrs. Roth was still out cold. Which was probably for the best, Ezra decided. The last thing they needed was someone of her...persuasion, complicating things further.

Due to his insistence, Ezra had been allowed to prop her against a wall, and cover her with a blanket. Which meant that out of the three of them, she was in the best position, he thought dryly; comatose and unaware of the danger in her house. Ignorance, Ezra lamented, could indeed be bliss.

He and Hannah had been marched into the main living and made to stand at the back of the room whilst two men trained their guns on them. Another watched Mrs. Roth, and three more guarded the outside. The silver-haired man had casually taken a seat in front of them, and was lighting a cigarette. He took in a few puffs, blowing out thick grey smoke before waving out the match, which he cast to the floor.

Ezra decided to continue playing the innocent, it seemed to have worked well to a point, seeing as he hadn't been shot. His eyes flicked behind the men training their guns on him, and to a table where his own guns had been placed.

As one of the men before him took a step forward, Ezra locked eyes with him. The man, although young, looked like he'd seen plenty of fighting in his time, and didn't look like the sort to hesitate if given orders to shoot, in fact, he looked as though he were waiting for such a command. A smug smirk was stamped across his dirty, unpleasant features.

The silver-haired man before them sighed deeply and sat back in his chair, his feet up on a small table as if he were relaxing on a bench in the afternoon sun.

Ezra forced a good-natured grin,

"May I inquire as to the purpose of this..." he nodded towards the two armed men, "...shall we say, less than warm reception?"

The silver-haired man grinned and looked round at his men,

"Well, look at that lads, he talks about as fancy as he dresses,"

The men grinned and Ezra gave a grim smile back,

"I like to present myself in the proper manner,"

The man sat forward,

"And you don't disappoint Mr. Standish,"

Ezra's blood chilled for a second, but he kept his expression friendly and inquisitive,

"May I also ask Sir, as to how you acquired my name?"

The man with the silver hair grinned, the information making him feel even more powerful. He tapped the side of his nose,

"Well, I reckon that'd be for me to know,"

Ezra gave a brisk nod.

"Very well then, may I venture to ask your name?"

At this question, the young man holding gun stepped forward, obviously considering the question a violation of some sorts. However silver-hair held up a hand,

"It's alright Luke. I always make it a point of letting men know who's gonna be killing them,"

"That's mighty fine of you," Ezra retorted dryly, the sarcasm tripping casually off his tongue. The silver-hair smiled,

"My name is McKale, and these are my boys," he waved a hand airily, indicating the men converging around the house.

Ezra looked impressed,

"Been busy Mr. McKale,"

McKale smiled, enjoying Ezra's dry humour, however the youngest boy stepped forward again, eyes glaring viciously. McKale caught his arm swiftly, his expression hardening,

"Now, now Luke, we need to show some respect. Mr. Standish here is a man of the law, and I always show respect to them right 'afore I kill them. Just like I did with the little lady's pa here,"

Ezra swallowed. So these were the killers of Catherine's husband then. He could have guessed. No wonder Catherine was so jittery. Hannah was knelt by Ezra's feet, clutching onto his leg, a blanket wrapped about her arm for comfort, a thumb inside her mouth and her big eyes squarely on McKale. He leant forward towards her, and Ezra at once tensed, his expression changing. There was no point playing the innocent anymore, these men were not going to be fooled into anything.

"You remember us Miss. Moore? Hmm? We knew you're pop real well," he grinned sickeningly, and behind him, the smirks on Luke and his brother grew wider.

Hannah's grip on Ezra's trouser leg tightened though she showed no fear outwardly. McKale grunted, still appearing amused.

"Sweet little kid," he muttered, almost to himself. Ezra kept quiet, just watching him. McKale sat back again, closing his eyes briefly, as if settling back for a nap. For a second, Ezra thought he was. Suddenly however, they snapped back open.

"Where is Mrs. Moore, Mr. Standish?" all signs of amusement were gone.

Ezra shrugged, stating casually,

"Well, she's not here,"

McKale sat forward, looking again at Hannah,

"Come here sweetheart."

Hannah didn't move and so McKale turned to look at one of his sons,

"Adam,"

At once, Adam moved forward, and bent, pulling Hannah from Ezra's leg. Hannah, whimpering loudly, started to cry and as Ezra turned try and stop him, Luke ran over, hitting Ezra hard and viciously. It was a heavy blow, squarely in the face with the butt of his rifle that sent him reeling. McKale grabbed hold of Hannah's arm, watching as Ezra fell backwards to the ground, landing on his bad arm again.

Once the spinning sensation in his head had died down, Ezra reached up, and gently touched his temple. It hurt, and there was some blood. Typical. Over him, Luke grinned, clearly incredibly pleased with himself.

As Hannah continued to whimper, looking at Ezra fearfully, McKale leant forward again,

"Now, Mr. Standish. Let's try once more shall we?"

Ezra's gaze drifted back to McKale, who repeated his question slowly, as if to a small child,

"Where, is, Mrs. Moore? And no smart replies, I don't think you or Miss. Moore here would like the consequences."

Ezra considered the options. There wasn't too much to be lost through telling the truth in this case surely? He was fairly convinced that the other six would have Catherine safely somewhere by now, and possibly be acting on his own absence. He sat up, ignoring Luke's glare, and stared back at McKale defiantly,

"She went into town this morning."

McKale grunted,

"And when do you expect her back?"

"You know women."

It wasn't a very helpful answer, Ezra didn't intend it to be. But Luke seemed even less impressed, and delivered him a fierce kick to the ribs.

McKale smiled,

"I believe we both do."

The sound of boots announced someone else trampling into the room, sounding a little disturbed.

"Hey, that woman's waking up in there," he jerked a finger back to Mrs. Roth's bedroom. McKale turned to the man,

"We're waiting here for the wife. Go round and keep watch by the old woman's bedroom window. We'll put everyone in there out of the way..." he turned to Ezra, who was picking himself up off the ground in as dignified a manner as he could, half-pulled by Luke, "...I don't think they'll be much trouble now."

Hannah, seeing Ezra on his feet again, tried to twist out of McKale's grip. With a strange smile, McKale

watched her struggling for a while before letting her go. The force of his sudden release made Hannah fall over, but she picked herself up, and dashed towards Ezra. Luke, thoroughly enjoying himself in the mass of beatings and threats, put his foot out, a wide, toothy grin of anticipation lighting up his face. But before Hannah even reached him, Ezra bent over and scooped her up, ignoring the pain it caused him to do so.

He looked at her relieved, and she looked back at him, placing a gentle little hand to his injured head in concern. He smiled.

"Touching." McKale drawled from his chair, "Now, you will go and sit quietly in the back room, and there

will not be a sound out of any of you, otherwise I will not hesitate to pull out the girl, and, cute as she may

be, leave little momentos for her mother."

Ezra felt his stomach lurch, although, he thought with some amusement, it could be an enjoyable

experience throwing up over Luke. Hannah though, he noted with some relief, either didn't listen or didn't understand the threat, and stayed perfectly calm.

From behind, Luke gave him a shove, and calmly, and at a steady pace, he took Hannah into the bedroom, and listened to the sound of the door slamming behind them, and objects being dragged in front of it.

He sighed, and let the pain slowly set in as he let Hannah slip down to the floor. He let out a sigh and slid down a wall, hitting the hard ground with a thud. Hannah crawled up beside him, sitting on his outstretched legs and softly tracing the raised bump on his head, touching her blanket to the area like a nurse. Ezra smiled and took it from her.

"Why thank you my dear," he replied softly, "Now, are you alright?"

She nodded, her voice seemingly missing. Not that he blamed her. She turned sideways and snuggled into his chest and he put an arm around her shoulders as she closed her eyes.

Mrs. Roth appeared to be a little restless, but, seemingly still out for the count. He smiled weakly at the thought of the mood she would be in when briefed on the situation. That was going to be a more painful experience than any beating.

He sighed deeply. It was all up to the others now. There was no point in him doing anything stupid.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sorry it took so long to get the last chapter up, I've been so lazy since coming back from holiday! I know, I know, I'm supposed to be lazy ON holiday, but for some reason, I'm always worse at home! But, anyway, back into the writing swing now, and got the next few chapters ready, so they should come a bit quicker from now on. Anyway, you know the deal, please review, thanks to those who have, and I hope you enjoy!


	9. Eight

**Chapter Eight.**

He was going to do something stupid.

It had been at least two hours since McKale and his men had shut them in Mrs. Roth's room. With Hannah asleep, Ezra had set about checking the room. There was a window, set high in the wall, that seemed a natural option for an escape, but as he'd suspected, it was guarded from the outside, by a man holding a rifle and smoking a seemingly endless supply of roll-ups.

The door, he knew, was also guarded, as he could hear McKale snapping at his sons frequently, and the sound of shuffling about outside the door, which he assumed was a bored watchman.

The thing he saw that sparked an idea was a smaller window, tiny, set in the opposite wall, at ceiling-height. It was incredibly small, not big enough to fit a person through, however small, but, as Ezra found out, by moving Mrs. Roth's chair quietly, it did open. He was careful to replace the chair where he'd found it, and by the time he'd begun to formulate a plan, Hannah was awake once more.

She sat up from her Aunt's bed, where Ezra had laid her, and rubbed at her sleepy eyes, squinting at the light that was coming through a gap in the curtains.

"Bad men gone?" she whispered groggily. Ezra looked up at the sound of her voice, and he went and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking his head.

"Not yet my dear."

Beside them, there was a deep, restless sigh, and a groan. Slowly, and with an expression of pain and annoyance, Mrs. Roth's eyes fluttered open. Pulling a hand out from under the blanket that was draped over her, she pressed her forehead gently, wincing slightly as her fingers felt the raised bump. Looking up, her eyes rested on first Hannah, who was looking concerned, and then Ezra. She studied him for a moment, trying to work out who he was, before some sort of recognition sunk him.

"Mr. Standish?"

Ezra slid off the bed and onto one knee before her,

"Indeed. Are you feeling well?"

She frowned,

"Why are you both in my bedroom?"

Ezra smiled and laughed in embarrassment, his hand scratching the back of his head as he tried to work out the best way to break the news.

"You fell," Hannah interjected from the bed, adding helpfully, "Bad men in the house,"

Mrs. Roth peered at her as though she'd just spoken in French.

"What?" she snapped.

Ezra took over the explanations,

"It would seem you fell and collided with your chair. You knocked yourself out for a good few hours,"

Mrs. Roth struggled to stand up, and Ezra took her elbow, helping her up. Standing shakily, she went over to the bed, and as Hannah scrambled out of the way, sat down heavily, holding her forehead,

"Oh my head," she muttered, before looking back sharply at Ezra, "Where's Catherine? And what's this nonsense about bad men in the house? You still haven't explained to me why you're in my bedroom."

Ezra cleared his throat, and lent back casually against Mrs. Roth's dressing table,

"Well, Mrs. Moore went into town this morning, and is still to return," he paused as he tried to find a way to break the next piece of information to the surly woman, "In the meantime, I arrived to...pay a visit, along with some men of rather more questionable intentions who have taken temporary control of your property, and banished us to the confines of this fine room."

Mrs. Roth blinked at him,

"You expect me to believe that a group of men have..." before she could finish, there was the sound of a gunshot, which startled her and caused Hannah to dive under the covers, hands over her ears. The shot was followed by a muffled shout from outside,

"Luke you idiot! What you tryin' to do?"

Ezra smiled smugly, even the most ruthless group had their clueless troublemaker. Mrs. Roth however, was pale,

"I...will they..." she swallowed, "...kill us?"

Ezra turned to her with a reassuring smile,

"I'm sure that's not their intention for either of you. As far as they know, you're still unconscious, and Hannah..." he stopped, surely there was no need to bring the whole Mr. Moore-murder-followed-by-using-Hannah-to-lure-Catherine-back-story. He decided to lie instead, "...Hannah is far to young to be drawn into such a plot. Even gentlemen such as these have hearts."

Mrs. Roth nodded, seeming a little more composed,

"What about you?" she inquired quietly. Ezra hesitated momentarily and she nodded and looked down, "I see."

He tried to look bright,

"Enough of that now madam, I have been meaning to ask you about the window,"

She looked up again with a frown,

"The window?" she turned to look at it, "What about the window?"

"Does it open or is it purely ornamental,"

She looked bewildered for a second, glancing from Ezra to the window as she stumbled over the answer,

"I...err...it's fully functional,"

Ezra nodded,

"Good, opens from the inside?"

She nodded, and Ezra's face creased into thought,

"Excellent, " he started to cast around the room for something, his eyes taking in all the possessions arranged carefully on tabletops and cupboards. He turned to her again,

"I'm afraid I have to enquire madam...do you have something fairly heavy? Possibly breakable, that can fit through that window?" he pointed to the tiny slit by the ceiling. She turned to regard it, frowning as she thought,

"Well, there's an old ceramic jug in the wardrobe. I don't use it..." she faltered, "...but it was my grandmother's,"

Ezra looked at her gravely,

"Would your grandmother mind it's being used for a purpose other than holding water?"

Mrs. Roth slowly crossed from the bed to the wardrobe, and opened the door, rummaging around before pulling out a blue and white jug,

"What sort of purpose? Being dropped out of a window?"

Ezra smiled at her,

"What a perceptive woman you are madam, that is exactly what I had in mind."

She hesitated before handing it to him,

"Dare I ask why exactly you are going to drop it from the little window?"

Ezra sighed, and debated telling her. He placed the jug on the top of the dresser, and leaned closer.

"I thought that by dropping it from the small window, there would be enough of a disturbance created to allow Hannah to escape through the main window. I've looked, and there is only one man outside the back on this side. One must be on the other side, there are three in the front room, and three must be at the front, or maybe two, with one keeping an eye further up the road,"

Mrs. Roth's voice was equally quiet,

"How can you be sure?"

Ezra grinned at her,

"Well, being one of seven such, I was merely thinking of what our own intrepid leader's instructions would be. Hannah would be able to take cover in the thicket beyond your window, and from there, follow the road back to town, keeping to covered ground."

"She wouldn't know the way," Mrs. Roth frowned, pouring scorn on his idea. Ezra nodded his head,

"I believe she would. I've shown her just about every line of trees and country from here to town in the last few days. Besides, I doubt she'd have to travel far, I have every hope that my esteemed colleagues will be joining us shortly. She just needs to reach them."

Mrs. Roth looked doubtfully at her great niece, who was watching them with interest.

"She wouldn't..." but Hannah interrupted, climbing from the bed to tug at her aunt's skirts,

"I can. Back at home, I used to climb out of the window at night to wait for papa to come home. I had to hide then too, mama would have been mad."

Looking down at her, Ezra had no doubt that she'd do it. She had a limited sense of danger also, which helped, and as she looked up defiantly, she looked incredibly mature, and, he thought, stubborn.

Mrs. Roth still seemed doubtful,

"What if they catch her?" her voice dropped, "Shoot her?"

Ezra held back a sigh,

"I don't believe these men would shoot her," he didn't tell her what he thought they would do, "If you appear to be unconscious still, I would be the only one in harm's way,"

She looked appalled, but didn't say anything to contradict him. She sighed,

"Are you sure this will work?"

Ezra picked up the blanket, and Mrs. Roth settled herself on the floor again, trying to find the same position as he draped the blanket back over her.

"Certainty is essential in my line of work," he replied simply, trying to work out whether he was talking about gambling or gun slinging. Both he supposed.

Once Mrs. Roth was settled, he turned to Hannah, and took her gently by the shoulders,

"Are you certain you know what to do?"

She nodded,

"Stay hidden. Like hide and seek."

He nodded,

"Yes. Don't come out for anyone here, stay low, and still. Follow the road into town. You know the one? The path we took when you mother made us the picnic?" she nodded obediently, "And if you see Mr. Wilmington, or JD, or Mr. Tanner, remember them...?" she nodded again, "Then let them see you, and tell them everything that's happened alright?"

She nodded again and he looked at her seriously. Slowly her eyes began to fill up,

"I'm frightened," she sniffed and looked at him, "Will you and Auntie Grace be alright?" she whispered.

Ezra smiled sadly, and nodded,

"We'll be fine. You just worry about keeping yourself hidden alright?"

She nodded once more, wiping at her face with a sleeve. As he looked at her, Ezra was suddenly aware of how much he was asking of her. Suddenly, he didn't want her to go, however, he reasoned with himself. The others would be heading their way, and if all hell broke lose, which it evidently would, then it was better to have Hannah away from it. He was simply placing her before danger now, to avoid it later. It wasn't a very reassuring thought, but the more he thought about it, the more he thought it necessary. Besides, he was almost certain they wouldn't shoot her. McKale would want her there, so Ezra, and possibly Catherine could watch whatever was in store. That he definitely wanted to avoid.

He smiled,

"Now, I'm going to throw your great, great grandmother's priceless heirloom out of this little window here," Ezra grinned, pointing at the smallest window, "And when I say to, you are going to climb out of the big window and hide. You make sure you're well hidden and then you head for the road,"

Hannah nodded again,

"Ok,"

Ezra, heart pounding, picked up the jug and crossed to the window, pulling up the chair underneath it. From the corner of the room, Mrs. Roth smiled at Hannah, who was climbing onto the table by the window, and peeking underneath one of the curtains,

"Good luck my dear."

Ezra opened the window a fraction, testing the, water. Hearing no response, he opened it fully, and turned to Hannah,

"Ready?"

A nod.

With a deep breath, he stretched a hand out of the window and threw the jug to the ground. It splintered at once into a thousand tiny pieces, the noise surprisingly loud. This was followed by a start from someone, and the sound of boots crunching on the ground. He turned to Hannah,

"Now!"

Quietly and nimbly, she opened the window, and hopped out onto the ground. Abandoning the chair, Ezra ran to the window, watching her scamper into the undergrowth, and at once disappear. He sighed and turned just in time to watch the bedroom door fly open.

Luke, standing in the doorway, took in the chair, and Ezra, before charging in and thumping him again with his rifle, this time in the stomach. As Ezra gasped for breath and bent double, Luke called out into the front room.

"Damn girl's gone pa!"

McKale's response though, however angry, was like music to Ezra's ears,

"Matthew, Edward! James! Get the girl! Don't hurt her, bring her back her to me. NOW!"

He sounded almost flustered, Ezra thought gleefully as he rocked back into a sitting position, relieved that Hannah at least was not going to be shot at. Luke was glaring icily at him, a gaze that Ezra ignored in favour of trying to regain his breath. His attention was drawn however, by the sound of boots, and a figure in the door.

McKale smiled down at him wickedly, and gave a deep throaty laugh,

"Well, well, well. I should have guessed you'd pull a stunt like this. A good lawman never surrenders without a fight," he turned to Luke, who was pulsing with a nervous, twitchy energy. Which, Ezra supposed, was a desire to beat him senseless, "Luke, bring him into the front room. I think it's time we showed Mr. Standish just who he's dealing with."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hope you enjoyed, the actions picking up now...finally! Anyhoo, please review, and thanks again to those who have.


	10. Nine

**Chapter Nine.**

"Lot 'o tracks on the road. I'd say, seven, probably eight. Matches them folks from yesterday alright. Travellin' all together. Straight towards Mrs. Roth's too. I'd say we got ourselves abunch oftrouble."

Vin was off his horse, looking at markings in the dusty road. The others were grouped about him, peering down. Chris' face was grim, eyes set narrowly on the horizon, shaded by the low brim of his hat.

Vin, crouched on the ground, rifle in hand, pushed up his hat, and looked over at their leader.

"How long?" Chris asked shortly. Vin looked briefly at the tracks once more,

"Not long, couple of hours?"

Chris nodded, never breaking his gaze.

The sound of a soft rustling in the bushes caught their attention, and all heads snapped round at once, guns drawn. Buck slid from his horse, as did Nathan, and along with Vin, the three formed a pincer movement around the undergrowth. As Vin went round behind the bush, something broke out from the cover, and ran straight into Buck, screaming as it collided with him and fell over backwards.

"What the – Hannah!"

Hannah looked up, clearly relieved at hearing Buck's voice, and on seeing thelook inher eyes, Buck suddenly realised that he was pointing a gun at her, and fumbled to put it away. Following Chris' lead, Josiah and JD climbed down off their horses, and the men grouped about the young girl, who Buck lifted gently to her feet,

"We been mighty worried about you little one," he said softly. Vin crouched beside her,

"What are you doing out here all alone?" he eyed her steadily, and she blushed, and looked down,

"Ezra told me to find you," her face fell at the mention of the gambler's name, and her voice dropped to a whisper, "Bad men in the house,"

The men exchanged looks, and Chris came forward, and bent to her level,

"Is Ezra in the house with the bad men?"

Hannah nodded, her little face serious.

"Is he alright?"

Hannah paused, thinking about the question,

"He fell down," she said sadly. Oblivious to her, the six men exchanged worried looks. Chris swallowed,

"Did he get up again?"

Hannah nodded, and a collective sigh of relief went round the group,

"Yes. But his head hurt," she pointed to her temple, "He put me out the window."

"Does anyone know you're gone child?" Josiah was the next to venture a question. Hannah nodded again,

"Auntie Grace knows, Ezra knows..."

"What about the men in your aunt's house?" this from Buck. A vigorous nod from Hannah,

"Oh yes, they shouted for me to come out, but I not come out for them. Ezra said not to."

Chris nodded, more to himself than in acknowledgement of Hannah's revelations.

"Is your aunt safe child?" Josiah again. Hannah gave two big nods,

"She's sleeping. When mummy left, she fell and went to sleep. She waked up, but Ezra made her pretend again. They're playin' a game."

"And then you escaped through the window?" Vin was trying to piece things together. Hannah nodded once more and Vin stood up and joined Chris.

Josiah took Hannah's hand with a smile as the others moved off into a circle,

"Here little one, let me show you my horse,"

Surrounded by the others, Chris summed up the situation, sounding grave,

"He made sure that the gang thought Mrs. Roth wasno threat, and thenmade Hannah escape through the window, and you know that they won't be happy about it,"

Buck's face hardened,

"He's laying it all on him."

Vin sighed,

"They'll kill him,"

Nathan shook his head,

"That's damn sure, look what they did to you," he nodded at Chris.

"Well," Chris continued, "We get in as soon as possible. They're waiting for Mrs. Moore to return, so they'll be someone waiting along the road for her. With any luck, the others will be looking for Hannah. Some will be inside..." he stopped, he didn't go into what they might be doing. He nodded grimly, "So, we get a vantage point..."

Buck grinned,

"And rain down hell on them!"

Josiah, who had joined the group, nodded.

Behind them, a little voice broke out, in confusion,

"What's a memto?"

Everyone turned to look at her. She was sitting on top of Josiah's horse, holding the reigns tightly, wearing his hat, which was pushed right back, and still nearly covering her eyes.

"A memto?" asked Buck with a frown,

Hannah nodded.

"The grey man said he'd leave a memto of me for mummy,"

They stared at her appalled, a collective shudder passing through them.

Chris turned to back to the group,

"JD, take Hannah back to town,"

JD drooped,

"Aw, come on Chris! Why do I have to do it! I wanna get them guys too!"

Chris was in no mood for arguments,

"Take her JD,"

Buck turned to him sympathetically,

"Faster you leave, faster you can get back to us," he sang at him quietly. JD twigged quickly.

"Come on Hannah, leave Josiah's hat."

Chris turned to look at the horizon again, eyes narrowing.

"Everyone else, mount up."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"That wasn't very clever was it now Mr. Standish?"

Ezra was knelt on the ground of the front room, arms behind his head, an extremely enthusiastic Luke and his brother, training their guns on him. McKale was pacing round him like a caged tiger, turning back and forth restlessly.

"You see now, the little girl was an important factor in drawing her mother back here. Rest assured, that when we find them both, their ends will be somewhat more painful than I had intended, and that will all be down to you. I hope your conscience can handle that,"

Ezra kept his eyes to the ground,

"What if, by some extraordinary stroke of misfortune, you do not find the girl," He asked,

McKale smiled,

"If that is the case, and she is instead reunited with her mother. Mrs. Moore will have no real cause to come back here, which puts you at a bit of a disadvantage, because it means that I will have to direct my rage at someone else, more, conveniently located, you might say."

"And then what? You keep on following her?" Ezra's heart was beating ten to the dozen, but he was focussed on stringing out the conversation for as long as he could, to give the others more time. He had very little intention of being beaten to death, or shot.

McKale continued to pace, although he slowed a little,

"Of course. When one of your own is murdered Mr. Standish, you do not let him go unpunished. As a lawman yourself, I'm sure you understand that."

Ezra frowned in confusion,

"Indeed I do, but surely, Mr. Moore is already dead, why continue to punish him in death by pursuing his family?"

McKale stopped, and smiled down sickeningly sweetly at Ezra, suddenly amused,

"Oh I see. You think it was Mr. Moore who killed my son. Well, well, well. Since you are putting your life on the line to save the daughter, I suppose you are well with in your rights to know that it wasn't Mr. Moore who killed my Bill."

Ezra frowned again, mind racing,

"Not Mr. Moore?"

McKale laughed again, a rasping wheeze that came from that back of his throat. Luke joined in, snickering like a clueless child told a dirty joke. His father carried on,

"Come Mr. Standish, we blew that fool off his horse 'afore he'd let go of the reins. Think we'd be chasing a dead man?"

Ezra stayed quiet, his mind going through every possibility, he didn't want to believe what he knew was coming. His expression grew pained.

"Well, since you and Mrs. Moore seem to have become mighty close these last few days, I must admit I'm surprised she hasn't told you," he bent down low, to hiss in Ezra's ear, "You see, it was her who shot my boy. Murdered him, and ran. So, a life for a life, that's what they say." he grinned again, "Reckon you might not have got messed up in all of this knowing that. Very unfortunate business...for you."

Ezra's carefully thought out plan of stalling McKale, suddenly fell to pieces. He looked up, eyes fixed dangerously on McKale, hatred pouring out and he replied calmly, and venomously.

"You're wrong, 'sir,' I'd still be here. In fact I applaud her actions. However, I must say, were I her, I wouldn't have stopped at theremoval of just one of your repellent family members. I'd have taken down every single one of you."

McKale stared at him for a second. Eyes icy and narrowed. Incensed.

Ezra knew what was coming, and knew it wouldn't be pleasant, but he didn't regret a single word. His last thought before McKale's foot thudded into his chest, was that it seemed a shame not to die in his jacket and hat. Had he known he would die without them, he wouldn't have spent so much on them in the first place.

McKale's foot drove the wind straight out of him, and he bent over, hands coming from the back of his head to wrap protectively around his chest. Behind him, Luke was unleashed, and brought down his gun again, clipping Ezra around the side of the head and sending him sideways onto the floor, onto his bad arm again, which protested loudly at the repeated abuse.

As Ezra felt a wet sensation, trickling down by his ear, threading through his hair, he braced himself for Luke's next assault, which was a vicious kick to the stomach. McKale stood back, eyes watching him wildly, hair in disarray from the ferocity of his own strike.

Luke kicked him again, striking his bad arm, which exploded with pain, and made him cry out. Luke, much like his father, seemed wild, possessed even, and, worse, only just getting into his stride. He lashed out with his gun once more, catching Ezra across the back and sending him to the floor again.

Suddenly, there was a commotion from the bedroom, and an anguished cry. Everyone looked up. Luke's brother was grappling in the doorway with Mrs. Roth, who, no petite figure, was battling against him for all her worth,

"Leave him be! He's trying to protect us! He's trying to save us! You're killing him!"

McKale blinked at her, obliviously confused by her appearance, having no doubt forgotten about her.

"Shut up!" he roared at her from across the room. However this appeared to have no effect.

Meanwhile, Ezra, still sprawled on the floor, his head, back, chest and stomach all throbbing painfully, let his gaze fall on a small armchair before him. McKale had sat in it before, but Ezra hadn't really looked at it then, his gaze elsewhere. It was draped in some sort of blanket, and, hidden just underneath a corner of the blanket, was a metal pan. It had a few inches of water in it, and Ezra turned to look up at the ceiling figuring it had something to do with a leak. He smiled softly, inspiration, and some sense of salvation coming to him.

McKale stalked across the room, heading straight for Mrs. Roth. He pulled out his gun, and held it to her head.

"If you don't shut up and sit down, you're not going to be able to complain about anything anymore!"

She stopped at once, fixated by the gun, trembling. McKale grabbed her by the shawl, and dragged her across the room, throwing her into the blanket-covered chair,

"Now stay there and shut up!"

He turned to look at Ezra again, appearing amused once more,

"Well Mr. Standish, it appears that you are full of surprises. First you allow the girl to escape. Then you pretend that the dear lady here is unconscious. If I wasn't planning on killing you, I might try and recruit you."

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Ezra smiled thinly,

"Flattered, I'm sure."

Ezra, getting used to McKale's mood swings, watched his smile fade fast. Facing him icily, McKale turned his gun, and pointed it at him, listening to the satisfying click. Mrs. Roth whimpered and drew herself up in the chair, as if having spotted a mouse, her eyes on the spectacle before her.

"But enough games now Mr. Standish. You and I are about to reach the end of our acquaintance. I grow weary of your impudence, and interference," slowly, he smiled once more, "Good bye Mr. Standish."

A gunshot rang out across the surrounding area, followed by a scream.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dum-dum-dum! Hee hee! Would I be evil enough to kill him? Well...


	11. Ten

**Chapter Ten.**

Ezra blinked slowly, his breathing careful as he waited for a searing pain to come. The clouds of dizziness and nausea to wash over him. When nothing came, he looked slowly up at McKale, who, still pointing the gun at him, also seemed a little confused.

They stared at each other for a split second, before McKale's head turned on hearing a commotion outside.

"Pa! Someone's shooting at us!" a voice shouted frantically from the front yard, "Danny's been hit!"

McKale's head whirled back to look at Ezra viciously, but at the same time, he moved the gun away, using it to gesture at his two sons,

"You stay here with them. If he so much as moves. Shoot him,"

Luke grinned, and Ezra could see he would have no trouble following the command through.

McKale looked out of the front door cautiously, and slid out of sight into the shadow of the veranda. Ezra watched him go, but his attention was drawn by Luke shifting his position, and wandering over to him. He stopped and peered down at the gambler with a sneer, ignoring the sporadic, but increased sounds of gunfire outside.

"Ready to die yet gambling man?"

Ezra barely heard him, he was concentrating on the battle taking place before the house. Surely it denoted that Hannah was safe, and that she'd found the others as he'd hoped. Or maybe they'd arrive anyway, and she was still wandering. As Luke paced restlessly before him, he pulled himself back to the conversation at hand,

"Son, I believe I was ready about five minutes ago, but fate intervened."

Luke, obviously not getting the response he'd wanted, which Ezra expected was none at all, pushed the barrel of his gun into the gambler's neck viciously.

"I ain't your son,"

"Luke..." the remaining brother intervened harshly, coming forward to stand by the chair where Mrs. Roth sat trembling, "Stop playin' around,"

Luke glared at his brother for a second, before stepping back and giving Ezra a hard push with his foot. Ezra landed on the floor beside Mrs. Roth's feet, and she gasped and drew them up. Behind him, Luke turned restlessly, and wandered off to the window, to observe the battle outside, muttering grumpily,

"Fine, you deal with him,"

As the other man stepped forward to grab at Ezra's shirt and pull him to his knees, Ezra seized his chance. He took up the hidden pan, and connected it with the man's head, water spilling out across the floor, the man uttered a cry and fell over backwards. Luke, over by the window, whirled round, bringing up his gun, but Ezra was quicker. He whipped up the gun from the fallen brother, and discharged a shot into Luke's chest.

Luke stood for a second, face masked with confusion before he thudded to the ground, gun sliding across the floor harmlessly. Ezra let out a sigh,

"Well, that's one dilemma resolved," he stood quickly, ignoring the spell of dizziness that came with it, and walked quickly to the table, pulling back on his guns and hat.

Mrs. Roth was fixated with the body lying beneath her window, shaking as she watched the blood start to seep across her floor.

"Madam?" Ezra was extending a hand to her. She glanced at him without really looking, and so he continued, "I suggest we vacate the premises via the back," he pulled her gently from the chair, and marched swiftly into the bedroom. Pulling out his gun, he headed cautiously for the window, sliding back the bolt, and pushing one of the panes open slowly. When this action was not challenged, he put his head out slightly, satisfying himself further, that everyone was out the front.

He bent to pick up his jacket from the floor, and pulled it on quickly, brushing the dust off the sleeves and shoulders. Once satisfied that his attire was in a satisfactory condition, he smiled brightly Mrs. Roth,

"Shall we?" in two quick movements he was outside, and turning to beckon her through. She was a lot less nimble than he was, but she managed to climb out without too much indignity. Once she was beside him, he straightened his hat once more, and pointed to a small barn beside the house, set forward slightly.

"I suggest we make for that building, and use the outside of it to make our way up the incline towards the road,"

She looked at him hesitantly,

"People are shooting from up there,"

He lead the way forward, irrespective of her concerns, adding confidently,

"Indeed. My associates," he grinned ruefully, "...and despite the numerous times I have given them just cause, they are yet to shoot me."

He crouched at the end of the wall, and beckoned Mrs. Roth down also, waiting for a lull in the gunfire when he might be able to send Mrs. Roth for the barn. He smiled thinly, surely he was on the home straight?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Buck gave a loud whoop as a bullet thudded into the trough, and a loud curse arouse. He was enjoying himself immensely.

To his side, Chris was using less of his bullets, casting his eyes eagerly over the ground, hoping the diversion had allowed Ezra to escape, and preparing to cover his flight.

Around him, spread out into a pincer shape, the others fired on stoically, each watching for their own glimpse of the familiar bright jacket.

There was a metallic thud, and beside him Buck whooped once more before throwing him a wide smile,

"JD will sure hate to have missed this!"

And shaking his head at the boy's predicament, he grinned again. Took aim, and fired.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

McKale was in a bad mood. He had been forced to crouch beneath an upturned trough as bullets rained down. His second eldest son Danny had been shot in the leg and was in an immense amount of pain, and, to cap it all, there was an unknown number of assailants firing down on them.

He smiled thinly as he ran through his possible enemies, there was a fair list of them to be sure. He decided however, upon the Four Corners lawmen. The impromptu attack also meant, he thought savagely, that Mrs. Moore would not be returning, her child had also escaped, and now he was holding a gambling law-upholding gun slinger hostage, whilst his friends rained down hell from their, frankly, significantly better vantage point.

But, McKale smiled. He was still holding the ace. He still had the lawman. He deftly ducked a bullet that clipped the top of the trough, and turned to one of his sons, firing periodically beside him.

"Matthew! Get me that gambler!"

However, Matthew barely had time to move before a howl from the battered ranch doorway caught everyone's attention, and made the McKale boys' blood run cold.

Jonas was standing in the door, hand to head, holding a bloody rifle, face a mask of misery and regret.

"Pa! He killed Luke!"

McKale's heart stopped beating for a split second, and his stomach lurched. Luke. His youngest. His son. Dead. Jonas opened his mouth to speak again,

"Pa! They - ," but he was cut off as a bullet found his middle, throwing him backwards.

"Jonas!" McKale's calm tone broke in hysteria as his son went down. He looked around frantically at his boys, "Get him to safety! Get him over here!"

Obliging their father to the last, several of his sons dived into the melee, and dragged their whimpering brother to the safety of an upturned cart. McKale, himself dodging the bullets, dove over, coming up alongside his son and stroking his hair with a shaking hand.

"Jonas,"

Jonas' eyes flickered, and he looked up with a shaky breath,

"He got away Pa. He shot Luke. He got away."

McKale stroked the flaxen hair, sticky with perspiration,

"Sssh. I know. I know."

Jonas' eyes fluttered, and, with a shudder, he drew his last breath, his head falling to one side.

For a full minute, McKale said nothing, and, hounded by bullets and without a leader, his sons seemed clueless. Eventually however, McKale looked up. In his eyes burned a newly awakened fury, and his sons cringed in horror at his murderous expression. The corner of his lips drew up in a half-crazed grin, and turning to face the rest of his family, he roared out his demand.

"BURN IT DOWN!"

His sons at once leapt to comply, grabbing anything dry they could find. McKale meanwhile found himself a space amongst the broken cart beams to watch, and wait.

The gambler would pay. No one took a McKale boy.


	12. Eleven

**Chapter Eleven.**

The smoke rose thick and fast as the house burst into a ball of fire. Yellow flames licked around the scorched window frames, and rose from the roof like fingers reaching up to the clouds. Curling, reaching, stretching figures, winding around dripping beams and blackened mounds that used to be chairs, cupboards and tables.

Ezra was hot. Very hot. The wafting frills of the flames were reaching out for him like fingers, and, head low, he was trying to stifle the smoke, and peer through the chaos at their surroundings, which swam like a reflection in a puddle. He could feel drops of perspiration trickling off his forehead, and down his cheekbones, clinging to his jaw, running down from under his hat, and threading through his shirt. He took a deep breath as best he could through his handkerchief, and turned to look at Mrs. Roth.

Her hair was plastered to her face, the heat sticking the loose threads to her cheeks. She was holding her shawl to her mouth, her eyes streaming.

"Madam, when I indicate, you must run for the barn. Don't pause, or turn or stop. Keep your head down and run as fast as you can. Do you understand?" He shouted over the cacophony,

She nodded uncertainly, her eyes fixed on him intently, asking a silent question,

"I shall be right behind you," he replied. She bit her bottom lip, and he turned his attentions back to the front of the house, which had all but burned away. He could hear shouting, and the sounds of gunshots still. The battle was still going on, but he also knew that they would be baying for his blood even more than before. He'd heard Luke's brother shouting for his father, and knew that the McKale boys would not look kindly on the death of one of their own. Catherine and Hannah's plight had told him that much.

A flame lashed out overhead like a whip, and Ezra ducked. The back of the house looked set to go down, and before him, the flames were starting to reach out for the beams of the barn, which he knew would go up like a shot. He paused and waited for a gun volley to start up, meaning attentions were elsewhere.

He turned to Mrs. Roth, and looked round to see a figure materialising out of the smoke behind them. Another McKale boy. The man almost fell over them, and then the eyes widened and the mouth opened, as the two objects huddled against the wall became clearer through the smoke,

"Hey pa -,"

Ezra gave Mrs. Roth a push and drew his gun, shouting at her as she went,

"Go!"

With that he lifted his gun, watched as the McKale boy fumbled with his own weapon, and took a shot. As another of the McKale boys fell face-first into the dust, Ezra followed through the cacophony of guns, roasting timbers, roaring flames, shouting of men and rushing of smoke.

Mrs. Roth was cowering against the side of the barn, her hands gripping at the wooden slats like a safety blanket. He touched her arm gently,

"Are you alright?"

She looked straight through him before blinking and slowly meeting his gaze. She nodded again, and took a deep breath, standing up a little more straight,

"Yes. I think so."

Ezra nodded, and looked around,

"Good."

The smoke was starting to drift around them, swirling in like a cloudbank. As the barn roared in flame above them, Ezra swallowed and pulled out his handkerchief again. He could no longer see just a few feet in front of him. Flickers of orange were the only markers he had, as they continued to punish the crumbled house.

Mrs. Roth groaned in fear, and Ezra turned to her again,

"This may yet work to our advantage. If we cannot see our assailants, then they may not see us. If we go around the outside of this barn, and follow the inclination up to the tree-line, we should find ourselves back in the comparative safety of my comrades..." overhead, the barn creaked and he paused briefly, "...and I suggest the quicker we leave, the better,"

He took her arm gently, guiding her along, one hand on the barn, feeling his way to the edge, when he felt nothing but air, he led her in front of him, and ushered her ahead.

"Go on, keep low,"

She scrambled off uncertainly across the hidden ground, cutting through the smoky gloom.

Ezra followed behind her, checking over his shoulder occasionally and seeing only smog. As Mrs. Roth stumbled before him, he turned and put his arm out to steady her, waiting until she looked steady enough on her feet to let her carry on. He turned to look over his shoulder again, and jumped at the sight of a face bearing down on them through the smoke.

McKale. Wearing a demonic, possessed look, his hair wild, his son's blood on his shirt and smudged across his cheek. Ezra watched as the older man's shaking hand rose and pointed a gun in their direction. He dived away at the last minute, the sound of the bullet seemingly magnified by the close confines of the smoke.

Mrs Roth turned with a start, and Ezra, lying on the ground, ushered her forward through the smoke,

"Go! Go on!"

As she scrambled through the fog and disappeared, Ezra stood coughing. McKale had disappeared, and that worried him. It was eerily quiet. There were still the sounds of gunfire from out the front, and the barn and house roared, but once those sounds had been zoned out, there was little else.

Something began nagging inside him, and he took out his gun and spun round pointing it instead into thin air. He took a deep breath and tried not to cough and give himself away. As he listened and waited, something began biting at him again. The slightest sound was all it took, and he threw himself sideways again, as another bullet screamed past. This time however, he could see McKale, whose wild eyes were squared on him through the gloom.

Ezra stood again, looking over his shoulder. He had no idea which way the tree line was. He had no idea which side the barn was on, all he knew was that McKale was pointing his gun at him, and he was pointing his gun at McKale.

McKale stepped forward,

"You killed my boy Standish. My Luke."

Ezra kept quiet, sensing it not the time for a quip or for pointing out that since then he'd also killed another of them. Instead he took a step backwards, hoping not to connect with the barn wall. McKale carried on,

"No one kills a McKale boy. You're little friend found that out, and now, so will you,"

Ezra took another step back. He was assuming that McKale wasn't shooting in order to try and 'maintain' him for some other death, although what that was he shuddered to think.

There was a sudden burst of red and oranges, and a huge roar, and to the left of the men the roof of the barn crashed out of the sky into a pile of leaping sparks and ashes. As McKale shielded himself with his arms, Ezra took the chance and ran.

The smoke was still swirling thick, although Ezra watched as the ground began to clear, and light broke in, illuminating objects around him. He noticed that the ground wasn't sloping upwards, and knew he was running in the opposite direction to the others, but it couldn't be helped. He couldn't be helped. He needed to kill McKale or be killed, and that was not possible in the smoky environment. As the landscape began to clear, and as the gun battle was left behind, Ezra began to determine the sound of feet crunching the dust behind him, and McKale's throaty cry,

"Standish!"

A bullet whipped past his head and he ducked slightly, heading for cover. His eyes were streaming from the smoke, and his throat felt dry, and narrow.

As he dove behind some rocky coverings, wiped at his eyes with a sleeve and checked the bullets in his gun, he hoped Mrs Roth was having more luck than he was.

"Come out Standish you coward! You murder my son and run away! You're as bad as that bitch and her daughter!"

Ezra sighed. The fire had done little to cheer McKale's disposition. He lay low, hoping to maintain the advantage of surprise. All he needed was the opportunity to strike, and, as he listened to McKale stagger about nearby, he tensed.

It was all or nothing.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Mrs. Roth screamed as she thudded into someone's arms.

She was tired. She had scrambled up the slope, through bushes and stones, her hair and face were hot, sticky and smudged with ashes and dirt, her dress was covered in dust, and her hands and knees were scratched and grazed, but she wasn't beaten, and so as arms closed around her, she fought for all she was worth.

"Whoa! Whoa!" the voice that belonged to the arms sounded surprised, and at once the man let go, staggering backwards slightly.

"Grace!" the new voice was deep, soothing and calm, and Mrs Roth looked up to see Josiah, hands up, standing before her, looking confused and concerned at the same time. Vin stood beside him looking surprised, and a little wary, and as soon as Mrs Roth's took them in properly, she collapsed on the ground crying with relief.

Josiah bent down beside her, hushing her, and placing a gentle hand on her back,

"There now. It's all alright now Grace, you're safe."

Mrs Roth felt very ashamed about blubbering in front of them, but the floodgates had been open, and she could do nothing but shake and cry and gulp at the clean air.

Slowly, Vin bent down beside her, pushing his hat back to get a better look at her, and show her that he meant no harm,

"Mrs Roth?" she looked at him, "Where's Ezra?"

As she took in another shaky breath, she cast around slowly, seeming almost confused, and then alarmed. She turned back to them.

"He was behind me."


	13. Twelve

**Chapter Twelve.**

The McKale boys didn't know it, but they were being closed in upon. Two of them were dead, three more injured, one seriously, and their father was no where to be seen. To cap it all, the house was looking alarmingly unstable, and threatened to pitch over and throw the molten ashes and flames all over their positions.

As a cry rang out Jacob McKale looked over, his brother Samuel was writhing on the ground in pain, an arm clamped to his side,

"Damn it!"

Beside him there was a shuffling of dirt, and as he whirled round, consumed by paranoia, he came face to face with his brother Ely, who looked a little surprised to have a gun pointed in his face. Jacob hissed angrily and let his gun slide down to point at the ground instead.

Ely seemed panicked,

"What we gonna do Jacob? Kale's dead, an' you an' me are the only one's whose not injured. We can't beat 'em!"

Jacob closed his eyes, Kale dead too. Damn that gambler and his friends. They were wiping out his entire family, and now the mantle of eldest was placed squarely on his shoulders, and everyone else was looking to him. Only, he didn't know what to do. Every instinct was screaming at him to give up, save the rest of his family and admit defeat. But he was a McKale, he would never give up, not when he was avenging his brothers, and not with his father to please.

"We'll kill all of them bastards! Like pa said! No one messes with the McKales,"

Ely looked stunned, and opened his mouth as if to contradict his latest statement. However, at that moment, there was a hideous sound of creaking, crashing and roaring, as if the skies were caving in upon them.

The house was caving in, the roof slithering almost snake-like onto the ground, erupting in an explosion of sparks, wheeling and darting up from the blackened wreckage. Seconds later, the rest of the structure followed, crumbling to the ground in a cloud of smoke, flames and scattered embers.

The debris was enough to dismantle any chance the McKale boys had of gaining any advantage, for as they battled sparks and swirling pieces of ash from the air before them, and blinked back the tears streaming from their smoke-filled eyes they heard the familiar sound of guns clicking before them.

Jacob looked up, before him was a tall moustached gunman pointing a rifle in his direction, and grinning from ear to ear.

As the ashes and debris settled on the ground and the noise subsided to a dull crackle, the McKale boys admitted defeat at the ends of five separate guns, and began to raise dusty heads from their hiding places, and bring their own guns out of holsters to lay them on the ground.

As the smoke billowed up into the sky, a lone voice rang out from on top of the ridge, full of disappointment and exhaustion,

"Aw! Don't tell me I missed all the fighting!"

Buck shook his head at the young sheriff and chuckled,

"Not fast enough JD, just not fast enough!"

Beside them, Nathan cast about and voiced what they were all beginning to wonder,

"Where's Ezra?"

Chris sighed as he peered into the thick smoke clouds.

Damn.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The collapse of the house had been the last thing either of them had expected. Ezra, sheltered behind a rocky outcrop had been listening carefully to McKale's undisguised footsteps and mumbling, and judging the correct moment to strike.

However, where as the collapse of the house had been the McKale boys' disadvantage, it proved to be an advantage to their father.

As the roar of the crumbling house erupted across the landscape, blowing with it large pieces of ash and debris, Ezra ducked low behind the rocky outcrop, letting the fragments blow over his head accompanied by wispy billows of smoke. When the smoke had cleared enough to show the surroundings clearly once more, Ezra, lying flat out, turned over and let his gaze fall on a crack between two of the larger rocks, his breathing stilled, his brow sticky and smoky.

McKale was gone.

Ezra at once spun around onto his back, and sat up slowly, moving to a crouching position, his eyes scanning the smoky gloom for any shadows or movement, ears listening for anything above the distant crackling of burning timbers.

Swallowing, his tongue licking his lips cautiously and resting on his bottom lip in concentration, Ezra edged slowly towards where the rocks gave way onto open ground. His heart was hammering in his chest, his eyes flicking constantly around.

As he reached the last of the big rocks, he sat still, checking once more for any changes or movement around him. Still nothing. Heart beating ten to the dozen, and his adrenaline rushing, he slowly raised his head above the lowest of the rocks, before launching himself into the open, gun ready to greet whatever lay before him.

Which was nothing. Ezra couldn't stop his shoulders from slumping slightly. McKale seemed to have simply vanished, which wasn't a good sign.

It was as he turned to face the outcrop that a strangled cry greeted him. Before he could react, there was a loud bang that sounded as though it had gone off in his head, and a searing pain tore at his arm, sending him reeling backwards onto the floor. He knew the bullet hadn't gone through anything serious, and that it had skimmed past his arm, but as he clamped his hand to it, he also knew that it was bleeding, and that it hurt...a lot. Probably not helped from having fallen on it several times in one day.

He also realised, that if didn't do something quickly, McKale was going to shoot him again, and so he raised his own gun in the silver-haired man's direction.

McKale was bearing down on him pretty quickly, seemingly diving through the air towards him. As Ezra slowly raised the gun, he felt a foot connect with his hand, and watched helplessly as his gun skidded across the dusty ground and lay still beyond his reach.

McKale grinned, pointing the gun down at him squarely, his dirty, sticky face not showing the same sense of determination that his eyes gave away,

The older man seemed breathless,

"I'll kill one of you today at least. Get revenge for one of my boys, my Luke. He was a good lad Standish, a good lad, he didn't deserve what come to him,"

Despite his position, Ezra snorted,

"And I suppose the butchering of your own victims was entirely justified,"

McKale grinned once more,

"No one kills a McKale and gets away with it,"

Ezra watched him out of cold eyes. The old man was swaying slightly, his eyes wide and hand shaking. He was going to shoot. Ezra took his chance. He lifted his foot and kicked the barrel up high. The gun discharged, and Ezra felt the dust fly up just behind his him as the bullet barely missed his head. At the same time, he grabbed McKale's hand, pulling him in close and using his other arm to hit McKale in the face. As McKale staggered backwards, Ezra realised it was a bad idea to use such a sudden movement, as fire raced through his bad arm.

McKale tipped backwards, his gun skittering off between the rocks as he landed back-first with a thud.

Ezra didn't waste any time, at once he was up and on top of McKale, delivering some more blows, gaining some small sense of retribution for his own injuries. However, his blind anger didn't last long, and he paused, his fist above McKale's face breathing heavily.

He turned instead and looked for his gun, it lay some feet off, half covered by the dirt and dust of the ground, but visible in the sun breaking through the smoke clouds.

He stood up and began to hobble towards it, however, he was surprised at his own pace, and how slow and painful it was to walk.

Behind him, McKale started laughing, and he stopped to catch his breath, turning to face his battered opponent. McKale was groping for a loose rock, pawing at it with his hands, prying it free from the earth. He was laughing at the same time. Ezra watched him, almost with pity. However he wasn't prepared for McKale's final show of strength. The old man sat up very suddenly, the rock in his hand and threw it at the gambler. Ezra dived to the ground as the rock bounced off his thigh, and bit his lip to stop himself from cursing out loud.

He could have shot himself he was so unprepared for McKale's strength. Well, he thought to himself, angst can do incredible things to the human body.

There was a crunching, and Ezra once again found himself staring up the barrel of McKale's gun, and cursing himself for having damaged his own sleeve gun several weeks back. It was just such a situation for which he had it and yet when one arose, he was without it.

McKale laughed again, sensing victory as Ezra tried to ignore the throbbing in his leg. It was as McKale grinned maniacally at him that Ezra caught the gleam of something just a foot away, the shiny metal catching the reflection of the weak sun.

He looked back at McKale again, who seemed to be growing less and less steady on his feet, and taking a deep breath, decided to take the plunge. Raising his foot as high as he could, he booted at McKale's leg, the old man let out a cry and sank to his knees, and as he did, Ezra rolled over, grabbed up his gun, turned back and fired.

As the shot echoed about them, Ezra blinked. McKale's gun was still pointing at him, and both men were still eyeing each other. Neither was moving, each trying to work out whose gun had gone off. For a terrible moment, Ezra was convinced that it was McKale who had won, he was aching so much all over he wasn't sure he'd felt the shot. But as he watched, McKale's eyes began to twitch, and his focus drift. His mouth slid open, and with a gasp for breath, he slid over backwards, and fell to the ground still.

Ezra looked down, his gun was smoking and pointed to where McKale's chest had been before him moments ago. He had won.

The relief washed over him like a wave, and all the pain came flooding back to him. Slowly, he stood, and treading over McKale's body, he walked unsteadily towards the rocky outcrop. He moved to put his gun back in its holster, but misjudged the distance, and ended up dropping it to the floor again. This time however, there was no need to notice, and he slid back down the rock, landing on the floor with a soft thud. He clamped his hand to his injured arm, and with his other hand, pulled down the brim of his hat so that it covered his slowly closing eyes.

He'd just rest for a while. Get back his strength.

Then the darkness came.

ooooooooooooooooooo

So...verdict? Only one last chapter to come, as a sort of prologue/final piece thing.

I'm also working on another story about good old Ez, only it's going to be shorter, and a bit more comical (though not a parody or anything) just more light-hearted. Anyhoo, last chappy should be up in the next few days, and watch for the new story which is also nearly finished actually.

Thanks again for reviewing!


	14. Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen.**

The early morning breeze felt quite refreshing on the back of his neck, and he turned into it, letting it wash over his face like a cool wave. He smiled, lamenting that there were probably more mornings like it, were he simply to wake up earlier in the day.

Before him, the horses pulling the stage tossed their heads impatiently, and pawed at the ground, their noses flaring, eager to be off. The driver however, seemed considerably less rushed and flicked the end of a roll-up onto the ground casually, sitting back in the seat as if he didn't have a care in the world.

The town itself was quiet, almost peaceful, not that it ever stayed that way. The only people up were those leaving, and a few familiar forms gathered by the saloon doors.

"Ezra!"

A blur shot out from the hotel doorway and launched itself at his chest, leaping from the ground.

Ezra let out a groan as simultaneously, the wind was knocked out of him, his bad arm was knocked, and Hannah launched into his arms.

Behind him somewhere, he heard Nathan let out a deep sigh, and thought back to the lecturing he had received from the healer for landing on his damaged arm not once, but three or four times, before having it shot. Buck, who had spent most of his spare time recounting their version of events, from Chris' arrival back in town to JD missing out on the gunfight, had watched Nathan and Ezra's banter with a broad grin, until he'd been reminded that Sophie was looking for him, and was not in a good mood.

"Hannah!" Catherine, following at a more sedate pace, frowned at her daughter, who securely in Ezra's arms was playing shyly with the brim of his hat.

Ezra grimaced slightly,

"No harm done I assure you,"

"Your arm still hurtin?" the little girl asked quietly, looking down at his white sling. Ezra smiled,

"It'll mend,"

Hannah's fingers drifted to the cut on the side of his head,

"What about this?"

Ezra smiled, that had been another injury that Nathan had been angry about, although he had assumed that that particular outburst was directed more towards McKale than himself.

"Well I've been told that my head is particularly thick on numerous occasions, it's going to take a great deal more than a little affliction such as that to hurt me,"

As he said that he turned slightly, and winced as his arm twinged in response. Nathan chimed in from the background,

"Hope it knocked some sense into you."

Ezra ignored him and Catherine stepped closer, tugging gently at the hem of Hannah's dress, and nodding as her daughter complied, and slid from the gambler's arms.

"Well," Catherine smiled at him, "If you're ever in New York, let us know,"

Ezra smiled and cast his eyes down to the ground,

"I don't suppose I need to tell you what it's like around here," he stopped and looked up, meeting her eyes, "But if I ever find myself that way, I'll be sure to take advantage of your hospitality,"

Catherine smiled again,

"It would be the least we could do,"

They both looked at each other for a while, sharing awkward glances and embarrassed smiles. In the background, someone cleared their throat and stepped forward. Catherine looked up,

"And thank you too Mr. Larabee, in fact, thank you to all of you. I don't know where we'd be if you hadn't..." she stopped, and as she gazed around the warm faces of the seven men, she realised no words were needed.

Josiah stepped forward as another figure emerged form the hotel, and took her hand delicately,

"Mrs. Roth, I can only hope you return to our fold soon,"

Mrs. Roth, hair swept back, looking refreshed and content, blushed shyly, and gave him a gracious smile,

"Oh, well, thank you Josiah, I shall keep that in mind,"

Her eyes turned to meet Ezra's as well, and she smiled her thanks broadly.

Buck, watching proceedings from the boardwalk leapt from his chair and clapped his hands together, sensing the mood had changed,

"Well, I think it's only fair and proper now that we help these women onto the stage. Grab that there bag JD."

At once, the others all fell into some sort of order, and as bags were passed to the top of the stage, Catherine turned to Ezra once more, glad to have the opportunity for a quiet word alone,

"I especially wanted to thank you Ezra. For everything. You've done so much for us both..." she stopped and turned to look at Mrs. Roth, "...us all in fact. You're a wonderful man, and were Hannah and I staying, I..." she stopped and slowly met his gaze, "... would have enjoyed getting to know you more,"

Hannah, moving away from the packing of the coach, turned to watch as Ezra and her mother gazed solemnly into each other's eyes. Sensing the sadness of their conversation, she went over, and quietly wrapped an arm around the gambler's leg, tugging at the bottom of his jacket as the last bag was loaded,

She sniffed loudly, her little eyes becoming watery,

"Bye Ezra," she whispered almost inaudibly. Ezra bent down to her level, tapping her lightly on the chin and smiling,

"Hey now, I don't want to see you crying, you might start Buck off and then where would we be?"

Hannah's smile wobbled slightly, and Ezra whipped a pristine white handkerchief out of his jacket-pocket and dabbed at her teary eyes before placing it back gently,

"There now, that's better, and who said anything about goodbye. If you think this is the last you'll be seeing of me you are very much mistaken little lady,"

Hannah's smile grew wider, and as the others stood back to watch, Ezra, wincing slightly, pulled a pack of cards from his inside jacket pocket, and proceeded to flick through them, watching her eyes widen as he moved them almost effortlessly from one hand to the other. Finally, he let them trickle down into her hands, and threw a wink at her,

"Keep them. See if you can work out how to make your own miracles,"

As she planted a kiss on his cheek and ran off towards where her great aunt was beckoning her from the coach, Ezra called after her,

"Of course, make sure that any miracles you do perform are strictly non-profitable endeavours!"

Catherine laughed and as Ezra turned his eyes to hers, she placed a hand gently on his injured arm and leant forward,

"You truly are a special man Ezra," and with that said, she lent over and kissed him on the cheek.

The others moved to stand beside the gambler as Catherine climbed into the coach with one last backward look, and together they watched as the driver finally moved into action, and slowly spurred the horses on.

Mrs. Roth was waving madly, her arm pumping as her excitement over the prospect of a new living environment grew. For her, there was nothing in Four Corners any more, all her ties were gone. Except one or two special men that was, a tall preacher with a heaven-sent smile, and a flippant gambler who'd saved her life.

Hannah too was waving as the men grew smaller in the distance, the cards hugged furiously to her chest, as if she were trying to push them into her heart.

Catherine was the only one not waving. She didn't need too, her eyes were saying everything that she needed to say, and with her daughter, she watched as Ezra grew smaller and smaller, and then disappeared all together. She sat back with a sigh to think about the man who'd saved her life in more ways than one.

Ezra too sighed as the coach disappeared round the corner, and the others moved off respectively, to watch him surreptitiously from out of the corner of their eyes.

For Ezra, it felt strange to be without them, almost as if they'd always been. Around him, life carried on as normal, but somehow, nothing felt normal. Maybe it never would, he thought with a lurch, realising that the place he'd come to call home might not satisfy him forever. However, as he turned around, he noticed something else. They were watching him, and not with any reasons in mind other than concern.

"Ezra?" Chris was looking at him, face expressionless, eyes watching him carefully,

"You ok?" asked JD, sounding slightly worried,

He smiled and looked down. He'd forgotten that Catherine and Hannah weren't the only ones to care for him.

Life would go back to normal.

"Buck!" a voice echoed furiously up the street, and the tall gunslinger almost fell off his chair in shock,

"Aw hell! Sophie!"

As the beginnings of another row escalated before him, and as the others rolled their eyes, Ezra couldn't help but laugh.

"I believe I will be Mr. Dunne,"

Normal? Since when were things ever normal?

oooooooooooooo

Finito! There we go, the last chapter. A little bit sad, but I didn't ever see Catherine as a real potential love interest, just someone to show another side to Ezra. He's not really the settling down type is he? Bless him!

Anyhoo, thanks again to all those who have kindly reviewed and kept me going...especially Macberly, who has been so prompt in reviewing every chapter!

Am putting up the first chappy of my new short story today too so if you've got a minute I'd appreciate you popping in and giving it a go. It's all completed and so the chapters should come fairly quickly, faster than these did anyway!

Well, please review as ever, and thanks for reading!

Hattie x x x


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